Immunda Crux Crucis
by stix04
Summary: "In every generation, there is a chosen one; she alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of-blah blah blah. Who cares about that bitch."
1. Chapter 1

_Warnings: Major character death and violence._

**Immunda Crux Crucis**

_Lima, Ohio  
__Present Day_

Brittany Pierce huffed and kicked at a rock as she dragged her feet. She was lost. Not exactly a new occurrence, nor one that the blonde particularly minded, it was just that her tummy was rumbling and she wasn't sure when she'd get a chance to eat considering she didn't know where she was.

It was dark. Only around six-thirty, but the moon was bright and high in the gray clouds. At the sound of a soft squeaking in the distance, Brittany's head rose and smiled at the sight of the playground before her. She beamed happily as she ran towards it and skipped over to where the concrete turned to wood chips.

"Hello!" Brittany smiled happily as she took the spare swing beside the little boy. He had been slowly pushing his feet off the ground, just making the swing sway as he waited miserably.

"Hi," he mumbled back shyly. He knew very well that he wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. But he also knew that his mother was late to pick him up. So what if he went against her rules; she had probably forgotten that his soccer practice ended early.

"I love swinging, don't you just _love _swinging?" Brittany asked enthusiastically as she shoved hard off the ground to propel herself forward. The rush of wind through her hair made her cheer loudly, getting the little boy to smile.

"Yeah. I love swinging, too," he boldly proclaimed with a smile.

"Duh, because it's the best," Brittany stated as she pumped her legs back and forth. The little boy loosened up. This grownup didn't seem to be so scary, like they were in those videos they showed at school.

Brittany slowed her swinging when she saw the puzzled expression on the boy's face. "What's wrong?" Now Brittany was pouting. She didn't like when people didn't smile.

"Nothing," he mumbled softly.

"Well you should smile when you're swinging, 'cause it's a lot of fun. So there must be stuff that's making you sad or else you'd be smiling while you're doing something awesome like swinging."

The little boy flushed as he glanced down at the dirt. His toes were just barely skimming the wood chips. "My mom forgot to pick me up." When his mom failed to be there after soccer practice, he ran off to the playground so his coach wouldn't know that his mom forgot him_ again_.

Brittany continued frowning as she gripped the chains of the swing. "That majorly sucks."

The boy smiled widely as he looked over at her. "Sucks is a bad word." Brittany thought about that for a moment before she shrugged.

"I like it."

The boy shrugged as well, glad that he had made the new friend, and began swinging softly again. "I think she forgot because she's fighting with my dad."

"That's so rude," Brittany stated, pumping her legs harder now. "My parents used to fight a lot too."

"Yeah," the little boy said before his lips quirked at the corners, "it sucks!"

"Yeah, it sucks," Brittany nodded to her conspirator with a smile.

"So…did your parents get a divorce? My parents say they're getting a divorce."

Brittany heard the bitter tone the boy used and furrowed her eyebrows. "They told you they're getting a divorce?"

"Nah," the boy said, head bowed as he dug his toe into the dirt, "but I hear them shouting it."

"Major suckage," Brittany said as her pace slowed.

The silence was filled with creaking chains and soft howling winds throughout the trees. It was a chilly night, but not cold. The wind that swept through their hair and clothes was almost biting.

"So…_did _theyget a divorce?" the boy asked again.

Brittany was quiet for a moment. "No," she stated clearly, pumping her legs harder until she was floating higher and higher.

The little boy looked up in awe at the girl; she was swinging quite high, but he was more interested in how her dueling parents remained together…he wanted to know the secret so maybe his parents wouldn't get a divorce.

"Why not? You said they fought all the time."

Brittany ignored him as she pumped her legs harder. The wind underneath her reminded her of a song her mommy had sung to her. She started out by humming it, but as the memories rolled over her, and her hair continued to whip around her face, it felt right to softly sing the words: "_He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease, that daring young man on the flying trapeze. His movements were graceful, all girls he could please. And my love he purloined away_." Brittany had no idea what purloined meant. But she was pretty sure it meant something awesome.

Below her, the little boy scrunched up his nose as she sang, finding his new friend kind of weird but cool. She obviously didn't care what people thought. And that made her fun. Just when he thought that maybe he'd run away with his new friend to punish his parents for yelling all the time, a stiff breeze made the hairs on his arms stand up as his brown locks ruffled and fluttered down into his eyes.

He quickly brushed them away, unsure as to why he suddenly got so cold and frightened. It wasn't until he saw the shadow by the large oak tree that he knew. The man standing there was smiling; _he _looked like the type of person Stranger Danger would warn you about. And as the man softly chuckled, the boy's fear only got worse.

"Hey ya, Blondie," the man hissed as he pushed off the tree. He was large, very large. The little boy thought that he was taller than his daddy. And way fatter, too. His face was all scruffy, and his long dark hair hung in an oily ponytail down passed his neck. He looked like a motorcycle guy. The boy shot the unconcerned blonde a quick look before gulping back at the man.

"Hello," Brittany answered easily before she went back to pumping hard on the swing and singing softly. The man was only a few feet away and the boy stopped swinging altogether in fear. The little boy didn't like how the man was smiling at his new friend. The man didn't even glance over at him, too busy watching the girl's movements.

"What'cha doing, Blondie?" the man asked, leering obviously as he leaned a little closer to Brittany.

"Swinging, duh," Brittany declared. But she was getting hungrier as the minutes ticked on. She was going to have to eat soon. She felt her tummy rumble and frowned. "I'm hungry," Brittany pouted, removing one hand from the chain to rub her stomach, her swinging slowing.

"I know _just_ the thing you can fill your mouth with," the man smirked. The boy's face contorted into disgust. He didn't really understand what the man was suggesting; he just knew that it made him very uncomfortable.

Brittany, on the other hand, knew what the man meant. When she was younger, things like that would pass right over her head, believing only the best in people. As she got older, however, she learned quite a few things.

"Why don't you go on home, squirt? Me and Blondie have some things to talk about," the man said, not removing his stare from Brittany.

"No, my friend wants to stay. Don't you?" Brittany directed to the little boy. He wasn't sure what to do. He was very far away from home, and he didn't want to leave the girl. He didn't like the man.

"No," the boy answered firmly, "I'm staying." He gripped the chains of the swing harder, the cold metal digging into his hands, and didn't move a muscle.

"See, he's staying with me," Brittany said calmly. The little boy felt braver now; he knew that his friend would protect him from the man.

Chuckling softly, the man shook his big head as his hand dropped to his belt. "Suit yourself."

Brittany heard the words, but the subtle shift in the wind brought a wave of something familiar, and she was instantly smiling. "Yay!" Brittany cheered softly, clapping her hands as her face lit up.

The man smirked, not quite certain why the girl was suddenly so excited. But as he undid his belt, he didn't care. All he knew was that she was young, hot, and defenseless. A combination he quite liked. "What's got you so excited, Blondie? You ready for what I got for ya?"

"Where the _hell _have you been?!"

The man whipped around quickly at the new voice, his eyes slightly widening. _Where the hell did she come from?_

The little boy blanched as well, perhaps too fixated on the scary man to hear or see the new girl coming.

"Britts, I've been looking all over for you!" Santana said to Brittany, crossing her arms over her large chest and completely ignoring the man beside her and the boy on the swing.

"I got lost, San. I'm hungry," Brittany pouted. But then her face lit up. "San! San, look what I can do!" Santana couldn't help but smile as she watched Brittany pump her legs hard back and forth on the swing before she was sailing through the air, almost weightless, and carefully coming down on her feet with cat-like agility.

Santana's grin widened as she clapped. "That was great, B!" The little boy was frowning; he had no idea what was going on.

As for the man, he didn't care. His penis hardened considerably; now there were two young girls to fuck. "What's your name, feisty?" he asked as he lowered the zipper of his pants. The new girl may have caught him by surprise—he _was_ a little drunk—but now that she was there things were only looking up.

Santana frowned as she rolled her eyes, not really in the mood to deal with this now. She had woken up later than she would have liked to find the bed beside her empty, and immediately set out to find her love. She too was hungry. "Come on, Britts, it's time to go home. I got us takeout."

Brittany smiled and clapped before frolicking over to her lover. "You did?" she asked, slinging her arms around Santana's neck.

Santana smiled back and pecked her girlfriend's lips. "Yeah, baby. It's time to go."

"Oh, _Jesus_," the man moaned beside them. His penis was throbbing at the sight or Brittany and Santana kissing. "You two ain't going nowhere," he answered with a hoarse choke.

The two girls ignored him as they continued to kiss. The little boy felt a little uncomfortable again and glanced away, knowing that you weren't supposed to look at people when they kissed like that. Santana pulled away slowly and stared at Brittany. "Why don't you go take care of your little friend, and I'll deal with fat ass over there?"

"Okay," Brittany said with a delighted smile, pecking Santana's lips once more before quickly spinning around to go back to the swing set.

"Yeah, baby, why don't you come over here and take care of me," the man smirked, massaging his hard-on. Again, Santana rolled her eyes and then turned to him.

"Bye," Brittany said, as she moved closer to the little boy. "I'm sorry your mommy was late."

The boy hung his head, sad that his new friend was leaving him. "Do you think maybe I could go home with you guys?" he asked softly, feeling rather foolish at how sad and scared he was.

Brittany thought about that for a second. "Your parents fight a lot, huh?"

The boy nodded dejectedly. "Yeah."

Again, Brittany was thoughtful. "Well…I guess you could always do what I did," she said with a shrug. The little boy looked up. Brittany was right in front of him so she was blocking the man and the new girl that stood just behind her.

"What did you do?" the boy asked in a small voice.

Brittany twirled her long blonde hair around her finger. "Well, they were making me really sad because they fought all the time. And they made my little sister cry, too. So, like, when my _new_ mommy made me like her, I just killed them."

The words were barely out of her mouth when the little boy's body broke out into violent shivers. The loud crack that had pierced the air only moments before sickened him. The proceeding _thump_ that echoed made his body break out into a cold sweat.

"Come on, Britts, I wants to get my eat on," Santana said lazily. The little boy craned his neck and stared with wide eyes at the vision of the man lying unmoving on the playground wood chips. His neck looked funny, like it was at a weird angle. And the other girl looked bored as she waited for Brittany, inspecting her nails as though nothing had just transpired as she leaned against the tree.

"Do you want to sing with me first?" Brittany asked softly, enthusiasm unrestrained in her voice. The boy looked up at her with raw terror in his wide eyes. His mouth was opened, but only uneven gasps rattled out. Brittany frowned at his unresponsive behavior. "San," Brittany whined, "he won't sing with me!"

"I'll sing with you later, baby," Santana promised, not looking up from her nails. "Just do this so we can get home. I got Mexican waiting for us."

Brittany shrugged, pleased with the answer, before turning back at the boy. She gripped the chain to the swings with both hands, no longer bothered by the horrified look on the little boy's face, and softly started to move the swing back and forth. "_He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease, that daring young man on the flying trapeze. His movements were graceful, all girls he could please. And my love he purloined away_."

Santana huffed as she shifted her weight to the other foot, yawning loudly as the little boy's raucous screams filled the air. As Brittany danced back over to her, Santana smiled and held out her hand for Brittany to take. "You have blood all over your face, baby," Santana cooed, swinging their joined hands. She leaned over and licked a droplet of blood off her girlfriend's chin and giggled when they stumbled through their kisses.

"I'm still hungry, San," Brittany complained, her long teeth retracting as her face morphed back into one of young innocence and beauty. Santana took Brittany's wrist and licked at the running blood coming from her arm where two small holes were punctured; where the little boy had fed off of Brittany after she had sucked his blood.

"I know, baby. But we got a Mexican family at home waiting for us."

Brittany beamed, lightly jumping off the corner that separated the wood chips from the cement. "I like the swings, San."

Santana wrapped both of her arms around her lover, holding Brittany's back to her front as they walked. "I know you do, baby."

As the two girls drifted off into the darkness, the teeth marks on the little boy's neck slowly started to heal themselves. It would take time, but soon, the little boy would come to. He would shake his head and slowly rise from the wood chips. Hungry.

_Lares, Puerto Rico  
__1868 _

Santana Cassandra López kept her eyes glued to her work as the yelling outside her window grew insurmountably. All the villagers knew it was coming. The growing fear and anger over the course of the Spanish's rule had gotten worse. Their people were being enslaved. Exiled. Imprisoned. The Spanish militia grew bored in their residency and took what they pleased. Whatever they pleased.

But Santana blocked it all out and focused on the man before her. Bleeding. Pleading with her to _Ayuda!_ Help. She quickly brushed away a stray tear and reminded herself of what she needed to do. She couldn't think of her father right now. She couldn't think of what the militia had done to him. What his "treason" could mean and result in.

Cesilio López was one of the head conspirators involved in the revolt against Spain. But she couldn't think about that right now. Or what was happening to her mama. Or her sister. All she could do was save the young, inexperienced solider bleeding out before her. Santana had found him stumbling around outside her house, and quickly, with all the strength she could muster, dragged him inside her family's home in an effort to save his life.

She carefully dabbed at the long, thick slice over the man's chest. It wasn't making sense to Santana. How the blood kept soaking through the gauze. How _much _of it kept pouring out. Her hands shook as she wiped, smearing the blood everywhere, flecks painting her dusty living room floor.

The solider looked up at her, his face grey and pasty. He couldn't focus on her face. "_El Grito de Lares_," he breathed, his lips barely moving. Santana's answering smile was pained. Her racing heart and sweat-soaked body trembled severely. And when the man went limp, Santana's muted smile remained.

"_El Grito De Lares_," she repeated in a whisper, still trying to stem the blood loss despite the fact that it was inconsequential now.

The sounds of screaming made Santana flinch. It wasn't supposed to be this bad. The Spanish were never supposed to find out about the revolt. Backup was on its way. Wasn't it? There were loud banging sounds that coincided with Santana's pulse. She could only look down with bleary eyes as she tried to mop away the blood that had pooled on the soldier's unmoving chest.

The banging wouldn't stop. And each time it sounded, Santana would recoil harshly. It made her body shudder and her tears heavier. Until a pair of hands was dragging her away from the lifeless solider. She could see the men standing over her. She knew they were laughing and talking to one another. But all she could hear was the screaming.

The banging had stopped. Where did it go? Had it been the men trying to get in? And where was her family? There was no word on her brother yet. Maybe they all got away. Maybe they were fine and looking for her. Her mother could've survived...

But as she was being dragged to her backyard, through the dirt and muck outside her house, Santana remembered. She remembered what she saw while she hid a week earlier. The sight of her mother, unmoving, as three of the militia laughed over the woman's body. How Santana had been paralyzed, unable to remove her terrified gaze from the sight of them taking turns gyrating on top of her mama. She remembered trying to move, fighting off the arms wrapped tightly around her as she tried to save her. She was sobbing. Her sister lay dead a foot from where Santana was hiding. Trying to break free of the strong arms of the soldier holding her to keep from being discovered, trying to protect her. One hand over her gasping mouth. Backup was coming, wasn't it?

Santana felt weary. The laughing around her made her stomach churn with a sick sense of déjà vu. But there was no solider from Lares around to save her this time. To help her. To keep her from attacking her mother's tormentors. But the message wouldn't connect with her brain. She couldn't move. Everything felt heavy. Were her hands tied? Her legs? Was something stuffed in her mouth?

They were talking to her now, but she couldn't understand them, too disoriented to listen. Not that she didn't understand their actions. She knew what was coming. It was the same thing that had happened to her mama, in life andin death. The same thing that had happened to her sister. Her little sister. So scared and helpless. Barely nine.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to be victorious. It wasn't supposed to end in Lares. They were going to take the fight elsewhere. Not in their backyards. _Not _in their homes.

"Hello!" The soldiers stopped laughing and glanced over at the new arrival curiously. Santana didn't even hear the voice. She just continued to lay there in the mud, arms and feet bound, legs slightly spread, white dress grey from filth riding up, gaze unseeing at the militias' boots.

Long ago, the screams had stopped registering for Santana. She heard them day and night. Screams were meant to be ignored now. And when the men—her would-be-executioners—started to scream, a sick, nauseating sound that mixed with cracks and thuds like an anvil repeatedly smacking against raw meat, Santana only stared dimly.

How could she have forgotten that her brother had been shot right before her eyes? Or that her father had been drawn and quartered in the square along with the ten other conspirators? Was that a dream or did it really happen? A repulsive nightmare that would wake Santana up whenever she managed to get sleep? Drowning in sweat and grime, only to awake to more screams.

Had it only been a month since this all began? A plan a year in the making to end with her all alone?

Santana flinched harshly away from the hand cupping her face. She would fight. She wouldn't cry and plead like her father had done or her brother or mama or sister. She would sneer and spit and shove and kick and _fight_!

"I am not going to hurt you," the voice said with a smile, "I only wanted to see your cuts."

She couldn't understand the language, but suddenly she felt blood and the stinging sensation of different cuts on her face. Santana couldn't remember receiving cuts. Or bruises and swollen lips, until the unknown voice stroked her cheek softly. The voice was still talking. But Santana didn't know English.

"You are _very _beautiful."

Nothing was making sense. The hand raking through her hair was making her eyelids feel heavy. Her neck drooped forward with the weight of the last month. "It is okay," the voice whispered softly. Santana felt the world give-way as though she was floating. Two strong arms were holding her again. If she opened her eyes, would she see the lifeless bodies of her mama and sister? Or were these different arms protecting her?

"I am going to take you home and you can be with me forever. Okay? I want someone for _just _me. Because three is an odd number. But four is not. So if there is four, _we _can be even together."

Santana was suddenly aware that everythinghurt. She could feel the bruises all over her body as she was carried. The screams were still all around her, but screams were meant to be ignored. The voice kept floating in and out of Santana's consciousness. Cooing softly in her ear as they walked through noise and bright flames.

"I did not mean to stare. But you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I could smell you because of all your cuts. And when I saw those men—I guess I will not get in trouble. We only came here because wars are fun to watch. But I did not think it was fun what those men were doing to you; hurting you the way they were. And I think they would have done worse if I did not do what I did. So I will not get in trouble for interfering."

Santana mumbled back and the voice giggled. "I have no idea what you are saying. But I will learn, okay? I will learn _really _hard and this time I _know _I will not drink too much. Because, when I look at you, my heart hurts a lot, and it has never felt like this before. Like it is hurting and growing all at once. And that means I love you. And I am going to keep loving you. Forever."

"_El Grito de Lares_," Santana mumbled, the darkness growing heavier. Again, the voice giggled.

"I do not know who Lares is, but you do not have to worry about him anymore. I'm Brittany, and I am going to do whatever it takes to make you love me forever and ever!"

_Lima, Ohio  
__Present Day_

Rachel Berry was slowly walking along the roof of a warehouse. One foot in front of the other like it was a tightrope. She hadn't seen the events in the park, but she could hear giggling coming from below. She softly hummed the song Brittany was still singing, the one from the park, and slowly extended her arms at her sides. Not that she needed it for balance. Rachel Berry had _perfect _balance. Since the day she was born.

When Santana and Brittany stopped at a deserted street corner to kiss, Rachel spun rigidly on her heel to stare down at them, sucking her teeth in disapproval. She was all alone in the world. She came to Lima on a long shot. She thought the town held the keys to her happy ending, but she was probably wrong.

It was filled with vampires, demons, werewolves, witches, and a whole lot of drunken losers. Which was just a really redundant way of saying Rachel Berry was rolling her eyes. With well-practiced agility, Rachel flicked her long, dark hair over her shoulder before using an arm to brace her descent down onto the roof's ledge, legs swinging out in the air. She continued to watch as the two vampires below kissed, giggled, and hurried on their way. She could sense them. The first shiver of acknowledgement came as the pair was just leaving the park. The sense that the vampires were near was not easily ignored. Curious, Rachel followed along, building to building, watching them. They were not a welcomed sight.

Five minutes later, Rachel Berry was saddled up to a bar stool. As she waited for the squirrelly bartender to get around to her, she took a knife from her pocket and picked at her nails. She had let them get too long. But when you're alone, with no travel companions and no point in living, why should you worry about a silly thing like that?

"What can I get'cha tonight? We have a lot of specials and—" Rachel's hand rose, cutting the man off. He had a reputation. He knew things. That's why Rachel was there. And plus, she really wanted something to off-set her deep frustration and depression.

"Jack, neat, and I need some info. I heard you were the man to see?" Willy's mouth twisted back and forth as he tried to ascertain as fast as possible if the petite girl was someone he could trifle with. Rachel's brow quirked, her blank eyes nearly black, and Willy quickly assessed that screwing over this girl would be a very stupid thing to do indeed. And he had a lot of experience with stupid.

"Sure; you came to the right guy," he answered eagerly and flattened his short, greasy hair with his hand to keep it slicked back. "For a small fee, I can set you up with—"

Rachel licked her smiling lips and rolled her eyes, her whole body relaxing as she realized that Willy was far dumber than he appeared. At her change in demeanor, however, Willy quickly caught on. "Or, you know, I could just tell you what you want, and you can be on your way."

Rachel's smile was tight. "Perfect. Tell me, you have any slayers in this town?"

Willy's hand froze as he dried the inside of a dusty glass. She watched as his dark, beady eyes roamed the bar before moving closer to her. "Yeah. We got one," he told her as he filled the tumbler up with liquor and set it before her. "Sort of new to the training, though."

"Just perfect," Rachel breathed out as she rubbed her tired face before downing the shot. A newbie vampire slayer wasn't exactly going to get the job done. "Second question," Rachel said, scooting closer to the bartender, "I'm looking for a witch. He or she will be of Korean descent."

Willy shrugged, quickly shaking his head. "Hey, we got a lot of witches in this town. When Cleveland went kablewie like that town in California, every supernatural being scattered. A lot ended up in Lima."

"Like you?" Rachel asked in a bored tone.

Willy nodded sharply. "Like me."

"But you're human," she smiled without mirth.

Willy shrugged and filled her glass with another shot. "Man's got to make a living."

With a tilt of Rachel's head, she silently gave him that, even if it seemed most unusual. But she really didn't care. All over the world, slayers ran free. Thousands of them now. Doing their duty to kill the vampires, demons, and forces of darkness. Rachel couldn't be bothered with any of it. She didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't want to be on a side and defend or destroy. The only things in her life that ever mattered were gone.

Hell, Rachel should be dead. Like most things she did, she had planned her suicide down to each minute detail. Planned for months. It was by complete accident that she learned what she had. If this lead didn't pan out, she would go right back to the plan to kill herself. She had promised herself that on her way to Lima.

"Was that it? Cause I got a lot of thirsty, paying customers," Willy asked, looking anxious to get away.

Rachel was still thinking of her plan. Of what she had lost. It took a moment to register Willy's words. "No, that's not it. I need you to do something."

Willy looked nervous again, his eye twitching slightly. Self-preservation was kicking in. "Oh, yeah? What did ya need me for?"

Rachel swallowed the second shot and savored the burn this time before speaking. "Two vampires just arrived in town. Old. Very old. And extremely dangerous. One blonde and one brunette. See that the slayer gets that information. If she can handle it," Rachel muttered to herself. She wasn't exactly sure that a newbie slayer could kill two verydangerous vampires all by herself.

Willy relaxed slightly. This was something he could do. And plus, it would keep the slayer and her watcher off his back if he could give them some good information. He learned throughout his life that having a slayer in his corner, even a newbie, was in his best interest. But he was curious. "Why don't youjust take care of them? It's not like you don't have the mojo."

Rachel twirled the tumbler around the bar as she inspected it before setting it down and shrugging her way back into her leather jacket. She wasn't originally planning on paying the dirtbag for her drinks, but suddenly it didn't seem important to have money. She would only be in Lima long enough to find out if her lead was legit or not. Then she would only be alive long enough for her plan to make her dead if it turned out the lead was _not _legit.

"Their names are Brittany and Santana. See the slayer gets the memo," Rachel mumbled as she tossed down a few bills, ignoring Willy's question.

"Yeah, sure. No problem," Willy assured. "And can I tell them who I got the info from? I'm sure they'd like to return the favor."

Rachel stopped her progress towards the door and looked over her shoulder to eye the man. Her stare was blank, as it had been for nearly a year; empty. "I'm retired. I don't need any favors." And then she was gone. Willy looked around the dimly lit bar, swarming with all the wrong elements; mostly vampires and demons.

He picked up the tumbler Rachel had used and tossed it into the sink. "Freaky chick," he mumbled, shuddering softly, before he turned to his next patron. He never stopped thinking about the leather-clad girl, however. Or her warning about the two mysterious vampires.

_San Sebastian, Puerto Rico  
__1868 _

Santana was mindful of the voices. One voice was menacing and hissed with a lilt that made her quiver softly. The second voice wasn't as cutting, almost musical; comforting if it wasn't so hostile. But the third voice made her relax; it was soothing. Even if she didn't understand English. As her dark eyes fluttered open, she was aware that she was no longer in her house. In fact, as Santana sat up on her elbows, she was fairly certain she was a far long way from home.

Wherever she was, it was well-to-do. The bed she was on was huge, and the room looked like it was decorated for comfort and wealth. Ornate paintings and statues littered the perimeter as though money was no object. Santana swallowed her terror as she glanced down to inspect herself. The dirt was gone from her fingernails and her face felt free of cuts and bruises. She was wearing a short, beautifully patterned sleeping gown, most certainly not her own, and her long, dark mane was soft and reflected against the twinkling candlelight in the room.

With a soft whimper, the conversation taking place a room over ceased. There was a long pause, a hiss of words, a clipped warning, and a soft click of a door. Sensing company, Santana slammed her eyes shut and slid down in the bed, fixing the heavy blanket over her and up to her chin as her heart thundered in her ears.

"Are you awake?" a soft voice asked. Santana recognized it immediately, but didn't move. True, the voice had saved her. But she didn't know where she was or how long she'd been there. She couldn't just trust this...this...girl? "If you are asleep, I will not wake you even if I really, really want to. I will just stare some more. Okay?"

Santana pinched her teeth down on her lower lip, very aware of the presence on the other side of the bed staring at her back. Who _was _this girl? And why was she taking care of Santana? She wished she knew English. The tone of voice was soft and caring, but what if that was just a show?

"You have really pretty hair," the girl said as she slipped under the covers and moved closer to Santana's back. "Your cuts and bruises are gone. All of them. I took extra, _extra _care of them. I change the bandages each day like I was told. I made sure you got plenty of water. I even changed your bedpan. All by myself. I do not think mommy thought I would take such good care of you like I promised. But I did. And now she will _have_ to let me keep you."

Santana was shaking. But she was also of two minds. On the one hand, the situation she was in should be horrifying her. On the other hand, the voice made her feel safe. Something she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever.

Even before the revolt in Lares, Santana's life hadn't been her own. Every day she had to fight for something. For food. For her freedom. For her safety. She had loved her parents deeply. But they wanted her taken care of. She was eighteen. At eighteen, a young lady should be searching for a man to take care of her. Santana pleaded with them. She shook the advances of every man in town. In the end, her papa put his foot down. She was to be wed before her nineteenth birthday. Then the revolt happened. She was unsure of where her fiancé was, but Santana hoped he had met the same fate as the rest of her family. He had been old. As well-off as anyone in Lares can be. But a soldier. Perhaps one good thing had come from the revolt: her freedom.

"You are awake," the voice said, moving even closer to the shaking girl. "And you are crying," the voice pouted. Santana began to whimper. Tears were streaming down behind her closed eyes as she felt the girl grow nearer, the memory of her dead family raw in her mind and the terror of her unknown situation close.

But then, suddenly, the girl was out of the bed. Santana blew out a breath, unsure of why the idea of the voice touching her scared her so much. "Open your eyes."

Out of instinct, Santana's eyes flew open, aware that the voice was right in front of her, stooped down at her bedside. "_Ah!_" Santana exhaled, looking at the woman before her for the first time. "_Incredible_!" Santana whispered in awe. Brittany blushed, smiling in pleasure, and bit her lower lip.

"That is a good thing, right?" Brittany looked bashful as her eyes locked on Santana. "I have been taking lessons."

Santana could only stare. She had never seen anyone with such light hair and eyes before. The crystal blue reflected back at Santana, making her feel safe and cared for. The girl's smile was friendly and honest. And Santana never knew that she could feel so many things all at once.

"_Bonita,_" Santana whispered, her eyes racing to absorb the pale, soft face. Brittany beamed, smiling shyly back.

"I know what that means! That was the first word I wanted to learn," Brittany told Santana. She liked that Santana had the blanket up to her chin. That her dark eyes were feasting on Brittany. That she looked so overcome. Brittany's face scrunched up in thought, trying to remember her lessons. "Eres mas...um...hermosa que...un dia de...um...summer," Brittany finished, still confused. "Sorry...I forgot the word for summer. But that is what you are; more beautiful than a summer's day," she finished, smiling softly.

Santana reeled slightly, able to shift through Brittany's messy Spanish to understand the girl. She was slightly puzzled. Why was this girl looking at her like that? Why was she saying those words? At Brittany's dopey grin, however, Santana chuckled a little awkwardly, more enamored than anything, but still deeply confused. Who _was_ she?

The most pressing matter, however, was her dry throat. Sensing that Brittany didn't know Spanish to the extent of Santana's inquiries, she only mimed her request. Brittany's face brightened, understanding instantly, and hopped up from her place on the floor.

"_Agua_!" Brittany cheered, knowing that one. Santana chuckled and nodded, repeating the word back in approval.

The blonde was at her side a moment later, brandishing the jug of water and a glass. Brittany's face lit up as she poured and handed the glass over to Santana who sat up carefully. They watched each other as Santana drank thirstily, never looking away. Brittany seemed hungry to soak in Santana, and Santana had to admit, she quite liked the look even if it confused her.

"I sleep with you every night," Brittany whispered in awe, accepting Santana's empty glass and setting it aside. "I hold you, and you let me. You have been really out of it over the last few days, but I kept you safe and brought you here. I do not know how long we are staying, but they have a lot of neat stuff here to check out. When you feel like it, I can show you around." Brittany frowned slightly. "But I probably should not show you the basement until we get rid of the bodies of the people who used to live here. You may not like them yet."

Brittany beamed, excited that Santana was now awake, and was eager to show the girl the huge house they had moved into temporarily. She didn't know when they'd be leaving again. Apparently the war in Lares had been boring—not the killing spree they had all hoped for—so they were moving onward and upward. When they would do so again, Brittany had no idea and didn't care. Before, she would have just been happy to follow her companions. Now, she had Santana. And happiness would be wherever Santana was.

"I dreamed of you," Brittany whispered, moving her chin to rest on the bed to look up at Santana. Santana could only blink back, clueless as to what the girl had said. "I can do that, you know. See things before they happen. And I saw _you_," Brittany breathed out. "You are even more bonita than in my dreams. And in my dreams, you were really bonita!"

Santana narrowed her eyes. The girl kept calling her beautiful...but why? She could only smile hesitantly in response. Wherever she was, it was better than Lares; safer. This blonde-haired, blue-eyed goddess was taking care of her. She had nothing left for her back at home. And here, there was no screaming. This girl had saved her, taken care of her. Santana felt warm whenever she looked at this girl and hoped that, just maybe, she could make a friend. A friend that she could maybe eventually be close with, talk to, confide in.

As Brittany leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Santana's cheek, Santana truly believed she had found her savior. She had been so alone for so long. Constantly afraid. Maybe this girl could help her start anew. With a friend at her side. Santana smiled down at Brittany who was still beaming. Santana had always wanted a friend.

_Lima, Ohio  
__Present Day_

"_Fuuuuuuuuuuck, Brittany! _Fuck, fuck _yeah_. Make me come, Britt Britt, make me come, _baby_!" Santana purred. She was on her back, naked, legs bent and pushed up to her chest, as Brittany thrust between her thighs, three fingers deep in Santana.

"San!" Brittany screamed, her forehead arching on Santana's shoulder. Santana laughed loudly as her girlfriend started moaning strings of Spanish, expressing quite loudly all the ways she loved Santana, the positions she liked her in, how _much _she enjoyed doing these things to her.

Santana rarely spoke Spanish these days. But Brittany was quite fluent now and loved speaking it to Santana mid-sex. As she bounced against her girlfriend, their breasts rubbing together as their sweat and come mingled, Brittany kept reeling off dirty Spanish before burying her teeth down into Santana's dark skin.

"_God!_" Santana shrieked, enjoying the feel of Brittany's sharp fangs sinking into her. "_Fuck, Britt Britt_, suck me baby. Suck me dry!" At the command, Brittany happily sank her teeth further into her lover's skin and fixed her lips to the dark-red blood that was pouring out.

Santana began to spasm around Brittany's fingers and felt the euphoria of being sucked as her orgasm hit. They had been fucking for hours; first, before they ate—Brittany always loved to fuck after a kill and/or turning a human—as a scared, small Mexican family of four huddled together in terror, watching on. And a lotmore took place after killing their "takeout."

The pair had been in Lima for only twelve hours. It was Brittany's idea to come to the small town. She had gotten a vision in Prague that it was important for them to be there. Santana never did get the full story as to why, she just followed her lover's lead when Brittany explained that it was all happening in Lima, Ohio.

Santana would follow Brittany anywhere. Absolutely _anywhere_. She followed her through all of Europe, most of South Africa, a tortuous decade in Antarctica, all over North America, a glorious thirty years in South America, a period of time that Santana can only recall as being the best fucking killing/sex-spree in her life in Australia, and an amusing decade in Asia before heading back to Europe. In almost one-hundred and fifty years, Santana could not remember a day she hadn't spent with Brittany. Neither would have it any other way.

She never really asked about the vision her lover had had about little Lima, Ohio. All she knew was that she awoke in St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague after a heavy slaughter covered with the Czech Crown Jewels to find Brittany hurriedly packing—beyond excited. Brittany said Lima, Santana said okay.

Santana was used to Brittany's visions by now. They were never wrong. They had brought them together, after all. Her lover would see a war, they would take off towards the fun. Brittany saw a wild party, they would hurry towards the mayhem. Over a century of following Brittany, and Santana would still get excited.

True, Lima was hardly the tearing down of the Berlin Wall, the fun of the start of World War I, or the hilarity that was World War II, but Santana trusted Brittany. They were in Lima for a reason. She would just wait until Brittany told her why.

Santana chuckled in a relaxed, post-orgasmic state and buried herself into Brittany's sweaty side. Only twelve hours in Lima and they had already killed six people and shared over a dozen orgasms. So far, Lima wasn't so bad.

"San," Brittany whispered, running her fingers through her lover's hair that was splayed across her pale stomach, "do you ever miss our family?"

Santana frowned. She knew what Brittany was referring to. The question came up at least once a week. She always knew what Brittany was thinking, but she was always caught off-guard by the question regardless.

The true answer: yes, she missed the family they had created terribly. It was a constant ache for Santana. But she felt betrayed. She was hurt by the abandonment. So she bit out a gruff, _No_, but she knew Brittany knew she was lying. It was her standard answer. And like always, Brittany just held Santana closer.

"Yeah," Brittany whispered, placing a soft kiss to Santana's head, "me too."

They grew quiet, just thinking. Remembering all the years that they had once shared with their family. Their broken home. "We have to find a witch," Brittany eventually said.

Santana stirred at her side, tangling their legs and turning closer to Brittany. "Oh? Why?"

Brittany hummed sleepily and curled nearer to Santana. "To make things right again, San. It's why we came to Lima. To make things right."

Santana's eyebrows furrowed, her ear on Brittany's chest where she couldn't hear the steady beat of her lover's heart. She loved the sound of Brittany's silence. "We could find a witch anywhere, B, why Lima? Why Ohio? Shit, why the _fucking_ Colonies?"

Brittany only hummed again, her eyes fluttering shut softly. "Because, San," she mumbled, "Lima is where the line ends."

This made no sense to Santana. "What line, B?"

"The blood line," Brittany mumbled. And then she was asleep. Santana was no closer to understanding this than before. But she just shrugged. She trusted Brittany irrevocably. She was the one who found her; who saved Santana. She took care of her, nursed her back to health, and made her feel safe. She gave Santana new life and taught her about loving the world through new eyes. Santana fiercely loved Brittany. If her baby wanted a witch, her baby was getting a witch.

Santana slid from the soft sheets and got out of the bed. She was quickly in her jeans and stuffing her arms into her leather coat as she removed her cigarettes from the pocket, placing one in between her lips, and carefully stepping over the dead bodies of the family she and Brittany had slaughtered.

Even though it was well past ten o'clock at night, Santana glided a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. With one quick, fond look at Brittany, Santana was out the door in search of a witch for her baby. Brittany got what Brittany wanted.

_Kingdom of Holland  
__1807_

Brittany was exhausted. She was drenched in sweat and blood and she blew out a tired breath as she rotated her aching shoulders. She tried to drown out the sounds of her parents' irrational shouts coming from their small cottage, and instead heaved the log connected to several pales of water over her reddened shoulders and marched on.

From her slightly ducked position, she could see her sister balled up sleeping under a tree in their spacious backyard. First, she would clean herself off—so as not to scare her sister—then she would go comfort her. It had been such a long day of fighting. But if the French thought Brittany S. Pierce was just going to lie down and take it...they had another thing coming. _Fucking_ Napoleon had another thing coming.

Brittany grunted as she carefully sat down the buckets of water. There were six in all: three strung up and tied around the log on each side. Perhaps she could squeak out only two for her bath and the rest could be for cleaning and cooking; she reallydidn't want to take another trip down to the pump.

Nightfall was approaching. There was more work yet to be done. During the day, Brittany fought off the French Empire who found it amusing to destroy store-fronts and claim what they wanted. Brittany's jaw clenched at the thought. She carefully peeled off the long gray coat she was wearing to mask the swell of her breasts—women weren't allowed to fight in the war—and slid down her wool pants. With practiced ease, Brittany slowly unwrapped the binds around her chest and breathed easier. In only her white long underwear, Brittany began dousing her body with the freezing cold water from the first bucket. She slid her hat off her head and her blonde hair flowed freely around her wet shoulders.

She would only have a little time to be with her sister before she would have to go back out and fight. First she'd troll the town square, looking for looters or soldiers who were drunk off ale and looking for a fight. But then she'd have to get to her real job. She would love to stay and fight for Holland, but, when the sun set, her Calling came first: Slaying.

Vampires loved a good war. They flocked to it, or so she figured out quickly. It amused them to watch humans fight and kill one another. They enjoyed feeding off the weak and dying. Just last evening, Brittany had slayed five vampires. They had attacked a widow and her children. The youngest child was killed, but Brittany was able to save the rest of the family after dusting the nest of vampires.

Shaking from the cold, Brittany quickly slipped into her only other pair of pants; another pair of gray wool. They were slightly stained from blood—not her own—but they'd do for that night's patrol. She messily tied back her hair and wrapped herself in her chest-bind before finishing off her look with a long dark wool shirt. She would find her sister and comfort her.

Their parents were scared, that was all. Their providence was in shambles. The Dutch Golden Age of trade was gone. France had set-up shop, scaring everyone, and Brittany couldn't keep everything together by herself. She couldn't help the towns' people, slay vampires, help her father's floundering sawmill, prevent her parents' fighting, and comfort her sister. She just _couldn't_, try as she might.

It was an awful lot to pile onto anyone's shoulders, never mind a sixteen year old girl. Not that she didn't have help, because she did. Her watcher trained her, taught her, comforted Brittany when it all seemed to be too much. Holly held Brittany when she couldn't save a little girl and her family from a group of demons, swept her tears away when the French invaded, made her smile after her father slapped Brittany for the first time, and guided her through her teachings.

Holly was the best watcher in Brittany's opinion. More like a mother than anything. Especially because Brittany's own mother was of little consequence. Before Brittany met Holly, she was content to listen to her mother spit venom at her, calling her stupid and useless, as Brittany scrubbed the house from top to bottom. She put up with her father demanding she was lazy and worthless, working in his broken-down sawmill until her fingers bled. But all that changed just after Brittany turned fifteen, and Holly Holiday approached her in her father's mill. She learned so much through the woman. Brittany knew she was a blessing.

Brittany was smiling as she made her way through the field to her family's backyard in search of her sister. Thinking of Holly always made Brittany smile. So much to the point that it couldn't be wiped clean even after she realized her sister was no longer under the tree where she last saw her. Brittany's head tilted in thought. She wished Holly was with her at that moment; Holly would know where her sister had gone—Brittany wasn't the best thinker.

With a shrug, Brittany headed back to her family's cottage, sure she'd find her sister there. The light breeze that swept the strands of hair on her face tickled, but Brittany didn't smile. With the breeze came a warning, a stone weighing in the pit of Brittany's stomach. And all at once, she was doubled over in anguish.

Images of her little sister crying out in pain swept through Brittany's mind. The agony of the vision crashed down upon her, but still the images came. Images of her sister bleeding, crying out in vain for Brittany. Her small body turning ashen as the light left her eyes. Of a vampire huddled over the little girl, licking her lips clean of her sister's blood.

Before the vision even ended, Brittany was up and running, still clutching her hand to her pounding head. Holly lived over a mile away from the Pierce cottage, but Brittany didn't slow from her sprint to get there: there wasn't much time.

She knew something was wrong before she even entered the small house of her watcher. Holly never left the front door open. Still, Brittany walked through the entryway, cautiously, and bit down on her lip to prevent from calling out to her watcher.

The cottage was only made up of three rooms. After a quick, thorough inspection of the first two—just in case Holly was hiding—Brittany rounded the corner to come face to face with her watcher.

"_Holly_," Brittany whimpered, the grief crashing down on her as though she were carrying a forest of logs on her back. She slowly moved closer to where Holly was strung up in her tiny kitchen, arms and legs extended and nailed to the wall, head lolling forward, eyes lifeless and open, and her naked torso gutted and parted, showing Holly's mangled insides.

Brittany's knees hit the ground painfully, but she didn't feel it. She could only feel the pain of her loss. Her watcher, her friend, her mother-like figure was gone. Butchered. Without wanting it to happen, the intense thundering of a vision roared through Brittany, doubling her over and replaying Holly's last moments.

Brittany cried out as she watched the vampire—the _same _vampire she envisioned not long before, killing her sister—rip Holly open while she laughed.

Even though Brittany wanted to remove Holly from where she was nailed to the wall, wanted to cover up her mangled body and take care of her, she didn't have time: there was still her sister to consider. Getting to her feet and ignoring the aching in her knees, Brittany wiped her tears away as she began running again, trying to discern the place she had seen in her vision where the vampire had her sister.

As she ran, flashes of Holly's death and what could happen to her sister assaulted her mind. The vampire didn't look familiar. Brittany was sure that the stranger had come here because of the war going on. But it was too much of a coincidence: Holly _and _her sister? The vamp had to know that Brittany was the Slayer. Was targeting those Brittany loved to draw her out for a confrontation.

Holly had warned Brittany about this in the beginning. It was why Brittany couldn't tell anyone that she was the Slayer, not even her family. That she alone was to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness.

Didn't Holly always joke that Brittany's visions were a blessing? That it made her special and would protect Brittany and her family? Now they seemed like a nightmare. As she raced back to her family's cottage, Brittany was treated to a running reel of Holly's death over and over again that would only be interrupted by future visions of what would become of her little sister if she was too late.

Brittany ignored her family's cottage and continued to sprint down the opened field of her home, passed where it was clear that the door was ripped from its hinges, passed where she was sure only more death was begging her to come greet it, and raced to her father's sawmill that flashed in her visions where her sister was being kept. There, sitting quite unharmed, was her little sister, sitting on the ground in the middle of the mill looking frightened but whole. Brittany quickly went to approach her sister, but a voice cut her off.

"_Ah ah ahhh._" Brittany froze. "It took you long enough to get here," a rich voice said from the shadows. "I regret not feeding off your watcher and parents now; I am _starving_! This little one keeps whimpering and it is making me hungry!"

Brittany knew and understood the words. In the back of her mind, she was somewhat surprised that the strange vampire could speak her language, assuming by her appearance that she was from distant shores. The only thing, however, that Brittany could really grasp was that her watcher was dead, maybe her parents, and her little sister was in harm's way.

"Oh, do not worry; your parents are still alive. I left them tied in your home. I figured that you would want to be the one to kill them." The words, again, couldn't really register in Brittany's thoughts. She could only stare down at her crying sister. She was shaking so hard Brittany could hear her teeth chatter.

"If it is of any comfort, I do not need to kill your sister. I merely want you. See, I have been watching you for days," the vampire said, slowly exiting from the shadows to show off her hungry grin. "So _noble _you are. So strong and brave. You deserve more than this life," the vampire said, holding out her arms to indicate the mill. "And your parents are terrible, terrible people. And that is coming from _me_!" the vampire laughed.

"I think I am only going to slowly torture your sister," the vampire said slowly and matter-of-factly with great consideration. "I need to really, _really _persuade you to do as I say, and I feel that making you watch what I do to little sis here is the best way to go about it," the vampire nodded firmly, hands on her slim hips.

"_Brittany_," the little girl whined, terrified by the vampire's words. Brittany looked down at her sister and tried her best to smile bravely. To comfort her even in some small way.

"Even now, _so _brave," the vampire mocked.

"What do you want?" Brittany said, her voice stronger than she felt as she looked over at the vampire.

The vampire only smiled, ignoring Brittany's question. "I find it _fascinating _that you get visions. I came here for a good war and to, perhaps, find and kill you. But that sounds boring now." Brittany swallowed thickly as she steeled herself not to look down at her crying sister. "Like I said, I have been watching you closely. Your training with your watcher, how you get the visions. I was, I admit, a little nervous that you would see my plan before it unfolded; guess not, though," the vampire chuckled throatily.

"What do you want?!" Brittany asked again, firmer this time, trying to be heard over her sister's crying.

The vampire shrugged as she walked around the mill, fingering different equipment that Brittany and her father used. "Is it contrite to say world peace?" the vampire asked playfully, shooting Brittany a grin. "Honestly? It is somewhat _fun _to be in the presence of the Slayer; I have heard all about your kind. I thought," the vampire said slowly, pausing with her brow wrinkled, "that slayers only got visions of other girl's in their blood-line; that they had dreams of past slayers. But you, you get visions of _everything_, correct?"

Brittany didn't answer. She stood stock-still as her sister cried harder. "Answer me!" the vampire suddenly screamed, quickly removing a steel saw from the table by her and flinging it at Brittany's sister's neck.

It was like it was moving in slow motion for Brittany. She was jumping and in midair before the saw even left the vamp's hand. She had no problem batting it away before she was covering her sister, who whimpered and sobbed as Brittany cradled her.

The vampire only laughed, looking skyward as she did so. "Oh, this is going to be fun!"

Suddenly, the vampire was springing through the air, body coiled, fangs bared. She slashed at Brittany as she came down, but Brittany's arms were crossed and warding off the attack. The vampire retreated back, grinning, and was on Brittany again before she could even get to her feet.

The sounds of her sister's screams were drowned out by the ringing in her ears. The hits she was taking from the vampire were causing her neck to snap back and forth painfully. An uppercut to the chin caused Brittany to fly backward and roll over her sister's body. She used the momentum to her advantage, however, and braced her arms on the floor before arching her body to jump off the ground. She needed to get in between the vampire and her sister.

Brittany's loud battle cry made her sister hiccup and fall silent. She watched Brittany leap over her and attack the vampire, landing punch after punch to the vampire's face and body. But all the while, the vampire merely laughed.

Brittany hadn't even seen the vampire raise her arm until, unexpectedly, she found herself pinned to the sawmill's wall, gasping for a breath that wouldn't come. "Aw, do not be sore because you lost the fight, little one: I have had decades to learn and a thirst much greater than yours." The vampire then tilted her head in thought. "It does not hurt that I have been watching you fight these last few days and know your moves." The vampire then shrugged, unconcerned, as Brittany's body flailed, trying desperately to get away. "Also, and lets just keep this between us, but I think the fact that you are a little on the tired side made it easier to beat you. If anyone asks, though, it is because I am a _much_, _much _better fighter."

The vampire was smiling as she watched Brittany try to speak. She released her hold on the Slayer marginally. "What was that? Did you care to contribute to the conversation, Slayer?"

Brittany wheezed and coughed, trying to suck in as much air as she could. "What do you _want_?!" Brittany asked angrily. She couldn't recall ever talking so much to a vampire before. Usually, she slayed and moved on; not one for chitchat when there was work to be done. She had never been bested in a fight. Holly had thought it was because Brittany could shut out the world and just _do;_ not think about things, just _act. _

On the floor where she had been since the vampire had snatched her from under the tree, Brittany's sister was sobbing and whimpering. The vampire glanced over at her, frowning heavily. "Will you shut her up, _please_?" the vampire asked, throwing Brittany down towards the crying girl.

Brittany gasped for air as she scurried over to her sister to hold her. She held her sister closer as the vampire hopped up on the wooden work bench nearby, the bench Brittany had spent hours hovering over. The vamp shrugged. "What do I want, you ask? To make you like me, of course. I have checked, and there does not seem to be a vampire in _history_ who has ever turned a slayer." The vampire shrugged again. "I want to see what happens. And with those visions of yours..." the vampire closed her eyes as her body shivered, seemingly pleased by the idea alone.

"I would rather _die_," Brittany spit out as her sister clung closer to her.

Again, the vampire only shrugged. "So be it. I am not alone in town, and I am pretty sure there are other vampires who would love to know what you are. We will kill your parents, eat your sister, and torture you for days and weeks on end until we have had our fill and finally kill you—but not necessarily in that order. It is your choice." The vampire jumped off the bench and went towards the doors. Brittany felt like she could actually take a breath, but then the thundering in her ears started once again.

The visions of her future sailed through her mind's eye, showing what would happen if she let the vampire leave: vampires, many of them, torturing her family, torturing her. Weeks on end. Being kept alive, only just, to allow more torment to plague her. Then, the visions stopped.

Brittany wanted to cry. Memories, this time, assaulted her. Memories of Holly's mutilated body. She wanted to give in, huddle in a corner and cry for Holly, for the situation she had put her little sister in, for the situation she herself was in. But instead, like always, Brittany gathered her strength and courage.

"You just want me?" she asked, panting.

The vampire cocked her head as she smiled. "Just you."

"And you will leave my sister and parents alone?"

"Sure."

Brittany squeezed her sister close to her. "Then I will do whatever you want."

The vampire grinned sadistically as she turned fully around and approached Brittany leisurely. "Oh, I owe you so big! Do you have _any _idea how difficult it is to get a vampire a birthday present? Practically impossible: you are going to be the _perfect _gift."

As the vampire laughed, Brittany mumbled feebly down to her sobbing sister, holding her close to her chest to try and calm her despite how terrible everything was.

The vampire led them up to the Pierce cottage and made a sweeping gesture with her arm to show Brittany and her sister into their own home. There, as promised, were Brittany's parents, bound in the sitting area, looking frightened and badly beaten.

"You really should have told your parents not to invite anyone they were unfamiliar with into their home. However, I feel that this is not a mistake they will likely make again, considering, so you are welcome for teaching them the lesson."

Brittany's sister raced over to her parents, wrapping her arms around their bloody and bruised necks as she wept. Brittany could only stand there and watch as the vampire moved to stand next to her. "Would you prefer to be changed here, with them, or to do it elsewhere?"

Brittany willed the tears away as she stood tall, her eyes on the scene before her. "Elsewhere."

The vampire nodded and cocked her head. "I prefer to do my killing outdoors, for ambiance's sake, so that works for me."

When Brittany had her fill of staring at her family for the last time, she turned to leave with the vampire as her father spoke. "_You _did this! You brought this evil _filth _into our home!" Brittany was surprised by her father's voice, barely recognizing it. Not only was it rough and coarse, perhaps from the vampire's brutality, but it was filled with so much hate.

Visions that had nothing to do with Brittany's gift started to form in her mind. Of her sister left alone with her parents. Of growing up in a house of hate. Working her fingers until they bled while the French took apart their town.

Beside her, the vampire slowly smiled, almost as though she could read the Slayer's mind. "I was _so _hoping I would get to eat the little one too."

The vampire never did get her wish to kill outside. She was sinking her teeth in Brittany's neck as the Slayer's family watched on. As the Slayer's little sister cried out in fear.

Brittany had crashed down to her knees yet again as she felt the blood drain from her neck and body. Visions assaulted her mind, of far-away places and exciting new worlds she would come to see, all while mixing with a girl Brittany had never seen before who was being called as the next Slayer, far away on another continent, and another girl with long dark hair, piercing black eyes, and a smile for only Brittany.

The vampire hiked up her long dress to expose her bare thigh. She had used her nail to slice open the skin until droplets of blood were rushing down her leg, and her hand fisted Brittany's long blonde hair forward. Brittany's mouth hungrily sucked at the vampire's thigh. The blood was slurped passed her pursed lips until she felt her teeth extend and sink through the skin to feast further.

The vampire ripped Brittany's head away as her moans and pleasured cries bounced around the small cottage, beyond euphoric that the Slayer's blood coursed through her veins. The vampire was deeply out of breath as she whispered, "You off them and we share the little girl?"

Brittany failed to answer, however. Already leaping through the air, her vampire face on, and falling on top of her screaming father. She tore at his throat before moving onto her mother. When it was the little girl's turn, however, Brittany was much gentler, almost as though the bond they shared overrode her new state. The little girl shook, almost catatonic with fear, as both Brittany and the vampire fed off of her.

The vampire laughed joyously as she pulled away from the little girl's neck and stroked Brittany's blonde hair. "Do not take too much," the vampire chided and pulled Brittany away from her sister. The little girl's eyes were closed. The vampire gave Brittany a sly smile before leaning forward and kissing Brittany's lips, licking away the blood still there. "Now it is her turn." The vampire guided the little girl's mouth to her sister's neck where the open wound the vampire caused was already healed. Soon, the little girl was sucking at her sister's blood.

When both Pierce sisters had recovered, the vampire took each of their hands and led them out of the cottage. "I just cannot _wait _to wrap you both up as presents!" the vampire said as they walked down the valley passed the cottage. She swung both sisters' arms as she smiled. "She is going to _love _her gift!"

_Lima, Ohio  
__Present Day_

Across town, Rachel was dragging a stick along the metal fencing as she walked down Main Street. The square was mostly deserted because of the late evening, but there were a few stragglers. The cool wind whipped Rachel's long, straight hair as her near-black eyes read the sign over the somewhat run-down building. The Magic Box's lights were in the process of being turned off, but Rachel didn't quicken her pace to get there; the store would stay open for her, she had no doubt.

"We're closed," the soft, high voice said as Rachel walked in, bell chiming as she did so. The voice was prim, much like the woman herself, Rachel observed. The redhead didn't glance up from the slips of paper that lay on top of the counter by the register. She just kept adding up the receipt totals, unconcerned by her knew arrival.

"But, _golly_," Rachel said in a bored tone as she perused the store, uncaring, "can't you just stay open for one more minute?"

At the voice, Emma Pillsbury's head jerked up. She smiled, unsurely. "I'm sorry...but we're closed," Emma repeated, hesitant of this rude girl.

Rachel smirked. She picked up the glass orb from the shelf and hefted it from hand to hand. "I'm _sure _you can remain open for just a minute longer," Rachel glanced over her shoulder at the woman and smiled, "_please_," she grinned with fake innocence, a flutter of eyelashes, and a pout.

Emma swallowed thickly before nodding just once. She didn't know what to make of the short brunette. Her wide eyes followed Rachel as she scrutinized the small magic store. There were crystal balls and candles, Ouija boards and incense, tarot cards and rabbits' feet. All the staples. But, Rachel noticed, that amongst the cheesy tourist traps, there were jars of Henbane and Hemlock, Mugwort and Mandrake, Nettle and Norfolk Pine—and much more. Rachel strolled her way up to the counter, suddenly curious to know if the townspeople of Lima knew exactlywhat kind of store the Magic Box was. How dangerous it actually was. How real.

"I need some things," Rachel said as she withdrew a list from the pocket of her leather jacket. She spread the paper out onto the counter on top of the many receipts. Emma moved closer to peer at the list, careful to keep a safe distance. The girl was not familiar. In a town like Lima, that was enough to make anyone suspicious. But it was the girl's blank eyes that really troubled Emma. She seemed as though she was lost. That there was nothing she really cared about.

Emma's gaze dropped to the list. "We have everything here," she said slowly, "but I'll have to order an Orb of Pyoulah." Rachel frowned and she stared down at the item on her list before looking back up at Emma.

"Orb of Pyoulah? Is that like an Orb of Thesulah?"

Emma shook her head as she smiled; the confusion in the girl's voice made her seem very young. "It's a common mistake. The Orb of Thesulah recalls one's soul from the ether. The Pyoulah is more like an orb that channels dark magicks. Almost like a vacuum, and stores the magicks within the orb."

Rachel nodded, feeling a little relieved. The idea of calling forth a soul—_no _thanks; that was dark power she didn't want to be messing with. "It's an old Asian magick. _Very _old, as I recall. It won't be easy to come by."

"I'll pay whatever," Rachel mumbled distractedly, still staring down at her meager list. All at once, the hopelessness settled on her. This was her last chance, her long shot. It was funny how five items could make up her existence. If she succeed, she would have everything she ever wanted once again. If not...well, Rachel had had a good life. All her dreams had come true at some point. Death would be a welcomed relief after the horrific year she'd had.

"It will still take time to acquire it, though."

"How much time?" Rachel growled, her dark eyes glancing up at Emma.

The redhead licked her lips nervously as she mentally calculated her chances of locating the rare orb. "At least a week," Emma stammered. "I really couldn't say—they're so unusual."

Rachel grinded her jaw as she rolled her shoulders, commanding herself to calm down. She had waited this long, what's one more week in the grand scheme of things? "Fine," she bit out with a sneer, "just see that it's done. I'll give you half now and the other half when you have it. This is the number I can be reached at."

Emma nodded and quickly went to work collecting all the things Rachel required. Once everything was in a plastic bag proclaiming: _The Magic Box; your one stop shop for all your magic needs_, Emma breathed a little easier; she was almost out of the woods. "Will that be all?"

Rachel flicked her hair over her shoulder and lazily observed the woman through her heavily black-lined eyes. "For now," she smiled and left, the bell on the door ringing softly behind her.

Emma slowly let out a breath. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there had been something so very off about the girl.

"If you're still open, ginger, I'd love some help too." Again, Emma's head jerked up. In the shadows, in the back of the store, stood Santana, smirking like Rachel had, but with something far more menacing in her eyes.

Shivers and fear crashed down on Emma's shoulders, her body trembling as she slowly backed up against the shelves until the vials of potions rattled.

Santana slowly approached the woman, her smirk turning feral. "My girl B wants a witch. I need you to give me the names of your most frequent customers. The _real _ones. Not the lonely housewives picking up crystal balls or the little girls trying their hands at love potions. The _real _ones, understand?" she said mockingly, taking her time to weave in out of the different display shelves and tables in the store.

Emma nodded slowly. She recognized Santana almost instantly. And, even if she hadn't, the evil poured off of Santana in waves, almost as though she wore the smell of blood like a perfume. Emma couldn't reveal her clientele. She could put them in danger. The real ones. The ones who came in for _actual _magicks. "I-I'm not sure I could be much help," Emma stammered, buying for time. "I'm new here and—"

Santana held up her hand as she felt her patience wane. "I'm _so _over caring," she said severely, placing her hands on top of the counter. Emma retreated faintly. "The last thing I wanted was to come to this town. It's a complete waste of my time. I should be in Venice or Cape Town or Uluru or Petra or _somewhere _that's _anywhere _besides this hellhole! I should be with my Britt Britt right now, in bed, fucking her for hours on end in between sucking the marrow from the spinal stems of little children," Santana said calmly, her voice so low and her eyes so dark that Emma visibly started to tremble. "But I'm _here_. So you will shut up and do as I say, because what my Britts wants, my Britts gets. And my Britts wants a _witch_," Santana hissed, her face morphing briefly into her vampiric face, making all the hairs stand up on Emma's arms and neck.

Face back to normal, Santana reached over the counter and slid a finger from Emma's quivering chin, down her long neck, and in between her cleavage, leaving her finger there, feeling the woman's heart pound beneath her touch. With a sarcastic grin she eyed the woman and flicked her finger so a button popped, showing the top of Emma's bra. Emma whimpered, getting Santana to chuckle, until she leaned back.

Santana picked up the list Rachel had left on the counter, and a pen that lay beside it. She held them out to Emma with a raised brow. As she wrote the list, Emma could only hope that the people she was mentioning would so obviously _not _be who Santana was looking for that the vampire would leave her patrons alone. Vampires could practically smell power. Odds were, Santana would sniff the fakes out and move on. Probably back to Emma, but she would worry about that later.

Her unsteady hand jotted down the list, purposefully omitting a few names in particular. Emma shakily handed over her list. "Thanks, ginger," Santana winked. She lifted the paper to her nose and took in its scent with a smile. "I missed that smell," she said darkly, eyeing Emma. She meant fear, Emma thought, and swallowed thickly. "Be seein' you soon," the vampire promised, turning smoothly.

As soon as Santana would leave the shop, Emma would be on the phone to Will, telling him all about the encounter and what it could mean. But first, she needed to know.

"Are-are you alone?" Emma asked softly. Santana, already at the back of the store, the way she had come in, ready to leave, turned slowly and studied Emma. It was a brave question to ask on many levels. Santana somewhat respected the woman for asking at all.

Gradually, a smile spread on Santana's face, almost joyous in its intent, and she turned to face the terrified woman fully. "We came alone, me and Britts," she answered with a smirk. "But we're not alone anymore," she sing-songed. Emma licked her dry lips and nodded, thoughtful: in truth, she had no idea what that cryptic message meant. "See to it that the right people find that out," Santana continued. "The only reason you're still alive is because I want to keep you that way." Santana waved the paper in her hand. "If these names aren't bogus, I'll make sure that no one has to adjust that pesky population number on the sign that's on the border of your town. But," Santana drawled out lowly, "if they _are _bogus..."

All Emma could do was nod, bobbing her head up and down. She watched as Santana smiled broader before disappearing into the shadows towards the backdoor. She waited a full five minutes until picking up the phone, careful to hit each digit so as not to mess up. Just hearing Will's voice calmed her a little, but silent tears still fell down her pale cheeks. "Will? I-I did something bad. I-Will...we're in trouble. No—you can't come over; it isn't safe to leave right now."

On the other line, Will was telling Emma to calm down and talk slower. Emma willed herself to breath, to not panic. She was okay for the moment. They'd come up with a plan. They'd think of _something_.

"Will, please...just...stay where you are; we'll meet tomorrow at school—it's just not safe now. I'm so afraid. And I did something bad. I had to. She would have killed me! I just—have you...Will...have you ever heard of the Unholy Trinity?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Warnings: Major character death and violence._

**Immunda Crux Crucis**

_Lima, Ohio  
Present Day_

It amazed Rachel that her internal clock still had her up at six on the dot; after everything, still up bright and early. She sat up in her bed and blinked at the sunlight that poured through her window to study it. The sun also amazed Rachel. She felt it on her skin and had missed it. Lately, Rachel may have been getting up at six in the morning like clockwork, but that didn't mean she actually got out of bed. Usually, she'd just sweep her arm out until she found a bottle of something alcoholic, drink deeply, and fall back into an uneasy sleep.

And before everything that had happened, getting up at six a.m. had meant morning sex. Had meant laughter. Then breakfast in bed before more sex. And then maybe a bit of playful sparring around the house. Punch, block, kick, block, punch punch, jump—more morning sex.

Sighing loudly, Rachel slid out of her bed and moved about her sparse motel room she had rented after she had left the Magic Box the night before. She had told the motel manager she wasn't sure how long she'd be staying but gave him a month's worth of cash to keep him quiet. "Shouldn't you be with your parents' or somethin'? Going to school?" he had asked her, looking distrustful.

"My parents are dead," she had told him blankly. "And I start school tomorrow," she clapped with fake enthusiasm before her face went back to being blank. "Now, can I get my key, or what?"

After getting ready, making sure the argyle sweater and short skirt she had bought the day before at the local Walmart looked presentable—with matching knee socks and penny loafers—Rachel slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out into the sun. She tilted her head back to soak in the sun's rays, letting them seep into her paler-than-healthy skin, and basked. She really _had _missed the sun. But she couldn't bask long; it was off-to-work-we-go for little Rachel Berry, and she'd have to jog there if she was going to make it on time.

Looking up at McKinley High School, Rachel grimaced. She _loathed _the thought of attending school. Amongst kids that were clueless as to what the world was really like. They were more concerned with their hormones. But, she needed a witch—a young one if the information she gathered from the underworld had been correct.

Home schooled by her parents, Rachel wasn't really sure what to expect from McKinley. She was hoping that it wouldn't take long to locate the witch. That, by the time the Magic Box's shop woman had gotten the orb she needed, the witch would be identified and Rachel could go back to her plan.

"Ms. Berry? Ms. Rachel Berry?" Rachel flicked her gaze up at the secretary manning the office of McKinley.

"That's me," Rachel smiled artificially.

"Principal Figgins will see you now."

"Goodie," Rachel mumbled to herself, getting up and making her way into the office.

"Ms. Berry, we are delighted to have you at McKinley!" Principal Figgins had told her as soon as she was sitting in front of his desk. She forced another smile. "Your parents were _extremely _generous in their donation to the school's performing arts program, and I look forward to meeting them!"

It was starting to hurt to smile. "That's _swell_, Principal Figgins. They're really _keen_ on meeting you as well!"

"If you have any questions, my door is always open. Have fun on your first day, Ms. Berry."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Rachel mumbled as she got to her feet, understanding that she was being dismissed.

"Shut the door on your way out," Figgins told her, already returning his gaze to the check in his hands Rachel had given him a moment before, admiring all the zeros.

X

Will ran his hand through his disheveled hair yet again as he paced. He kept playing his conversation with Emma from the night before over and over through his head as he waited for his slayer. Emma said that she was okay, but he was worried. She assured him that as of right now her life wasn't at risk; she had something the vampire wanted, so she was most likely okay for the time being.

He had listened to Emma as she told him what she knew of the Unholy Trinity. Her voice had been trembling so badly that eventually he just said they'd talk more in the morning at school. Once he disconnected with the school counselor/Magic Box worker, he dialed up his slayer. She had been out patrolling and had sounded sleepy and bored; her work ethic wasn't the best. He had demanded that she go home at once and meet him at McKinley High first thing in the morning, where he taught Spanish, and she attended, and pleaded with her to be careful. She was flippant in her response—as always—_over _confident when she ought not to be.

But she was new to the training. He had only discovered that she was a slayer a little over a year before. Right under his nose. He had taught her in Spanish. Directed her in glee club. If he hadn't stumbled upon her punching her hand through a wall after she was denied yet another solo, he might never have known.

She had informed him that she had had these unusual abilities for a few years. She remembered the day she suddenly felt very faint before being overcome with strength and visions of other girls all over the world coming into power as well. Will was immediately on the phone to a long distance number, explaining his findings. He was directed to instruct the girl at once. To clarify the history. To teach her discipline. It was no longer: _In every generation there is a Chosen One_… Now, there were a chosen many. And she was one of them. She was proud of the heritage she was born into. It was a badge of honor. But she was still very young. And she didn't fully understand what it all meant. He kept her on a short leash, unsure that she was ready for such a responsibility—especially in a town as dangerous as Lima, Ohio.

And it had just gotten a thousand times worse.

Once he got off the phone with his slayer, Will had leafed through his many volumes until he stumbled upon the book he was searching for. The whole tome was dedicated to the Unholy Trinity. To many, they were a myth. A myth so old and mysterious that most just assumed it was a made-up tale to scare the good guys. _Watch out, or the Unholy Trinity will get'cha! _The volume was so thick and dusty that it only scared Will further.

Emma knew the tale because of her parents. Because of her ancestors. Rose and Rusty Pillsbury taught their young daughter the story of how the Unholy Trinity had swept through parts of Europe and the world, killing and maiming for almost two centuries. Those who didn't think the story was a myth thought that the Unholy Trinity was dead. But, every once in awhile, Emma would hear news from parts of the world about a rash of violent murders. It really could be at the hands of any foul thing. But the way the murders happened. The style. The signature of the Unholy Trinity—it just could not be replicated.

They were creative. Brutal. And worst of all, stunning in their deliverance and ingenuity. They somehow made horrendous killing sprees a thing of sick exquisiteness.

Every sketch of the Unholy Trinity depicted unearthly beauty. Known as being, perhaps, the most stunning women that had ever walked the earth, old and new. They traveled in style. Lived in luxury. And have never been slowed or stopped. They were what even the bad guys feared, in truth. Their combined power was sadistic. And they looked breathtaking while doing it.

"Oh, thank God!" Will exhaled, his stiff frame relaxing slightly as his slayer sauntered into the room.

"Mr. Schue, I don't know why you wanted me here so damn early, but you _best _be making it fast. I still have two tests to study for before homeroom," Mercedes said as she hopped up on the piano next to her watcher. Will blew out a long breath. She was safe. He had spent the whole night in his office reading up on the Unholy Trinity. He had been near frantic with worry over his slayer; petrified for her safety. "Now, why did you have me drag my hot ass all the way over here when there's stuff I needed to get done like gettin' my much needed beauty sleep?"

Dragging his hand through his hair once again, Will crumbled down onto his desk chair he'd pulled from his office. "I'll explain when the others arrive," he answered tiredly.

"Others?" Mercedes asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Just as she said the words, four other people were hurrying into the choir room. "_Thank God_!" Sam Evans breathed out, beyond relieved at the sight of his girlfriend. She smiled when she saw him and then promptly chuckled as he threw his arms tightly around her and buried his face into her neck. "I thought…" he trailed off, just enjoying holding her as his eyes closed.

When he had gotten the text first thing that morning from Mr. Schue to meet him in the choir room, he had expected the worse. He wanted to go out patrolling with his girlfriend the night before, but she made him swear that he would stay home and study for his pending math test; he was failing the class and in jeopardy of having to go to summer school.

Mercedes was chuckling again. "That was quite a hello," she grinned at him. He smiled back wearily; she never seemed to fully understand that when she went out patrolling each night, she took his heart with her.

Mike and Tina entered the room next. Mike had his arm wrapped around Tina, and they both smiled at Mercedes; they too had been worried when they had gotten the text from their teacher. "Glad to see you're okay, Cedes," Mike grinned.

"Yeah," Tina smiled, "stop scaring the crap out of us," she chided playfully.

Artie followed shortly after, wheeling himself into the room with a smile and a wave to his friend. "I knew my girl would be fine," Artie said as he wheeled up to the slayer.

Mercedes grinned, "I don't know what you all are talking about; I'm good. It had been a boring night, and Mr. Schue sent me home early," she said with a shrug as she cracked her knuckles. There hadn't even been a vampire in sight. Well, okay, the dead body at the playground had been a little weird. But the dude had been drunk, she had overheard from the police as she lurked in the shadows. They were pretty baffled over how the guy's head had been twisted with such force, but that could be accounted for by a number of things…right? Mercedes wasn't worried, so no one else should be; she got this.

Will exhaled loudly, gaining the five teenagers' attention. "We're just waiting for Emma to get here." The kids nodded, used to this. The seven of them often convened when mystic situations occurred. Mercedes, the vampire slayer; Will, the watcher; Emma, the gypsy witch; Tina and Mike, the newbie practicing witches; Artie, the tech guy who also helped Will with the research; and Sam, the heart and muscle. Sam would go to the gym extra hard to keep up with everyone else in his small group. They were regularly hitting the streets and sewers to fight the bad guys. A group of unlikely people who found each other, perhaps by fate, and banded together for the common good. Will guided Mercedes through her training, helping Sam as well to learn to fight, taught Artie the ways of a watcher, while Emma trained Mike and Tina in witchcraft.

As the teenagers laughed and joked quietly, Will watched on. They were so young. Unlike him, they never signed up for this life. They were so brave. He was proud of them. The things they've seen…_done_…

He covered his face with his hands as he waited for Emma to arrive. It would be impossible for him to get through to his students. They were young. Teenagers. To them, they were immortal. Indestructible. They couldn't grasp what they were suddenly up against. The very _real _threat that had just landed in their town.

He watched as Mercedes' head snapped back as she laughed at whatever her softly-smiling boyfriend had said, Artie, Tina, and Mike chuckling along, seated around his slayer. None of them were prepared. In all honestly, he wasn't sure he was even prepared. His mother had been a watcher. She had been so pleased when he was trained as well. But shortly into his training, the whole Watcher's Counsel had been destroyed—most of the Watcher's Counsel killed—and he had figured that he'd never get to use his skills.

What he had never banked on, what no one could have foreseen, was that the whole intuition of _The_ Slayer was about to be changed. Suddenly, slayers were popping up all over because the last _The _Slayer had used magicks to change the lore. And here he was, with a slayer of his very own. He never did finish his watcher's training. If he had, he probably would have taken a class named _The Unholy Trinity 401 _or something equally ridiculous. He was in over his head. Luckily, he had Emma.

The thought hadn't even fully passed when he heard the tell-tale signs of heels quickly clacking down the hallway outside the choir room. He jumped to attention and the teenagers broke off from their conversation to stare at the doorway.

As Emma hurried through the choir room, everyone but Will smiled. "Emma," Will muttered, quickly at her side to take her into his arms. "You okay?" he whispered in her ear. After Santana had left the Magic Box the night before, Emma had locked up the shop and quickly driven home, making sure to take the long way just in case she was being followed. She had hardly slept. She had almost wished she'd taken Will's advice and let him come over. But it had just been too dangerous. Better to stay home, safe, and reconvene in the light of day, where vampires couldn't follow.

"I am now," she whispered back, holding onto the man a little tighter. She couldn't cry in front of the kids, though. Emma brushed away new tears quickly before untangling herself from Will's solid arms. "What have you told them?" she asked, her eyes flicking towards the curious teenagers.

"Nothing. I was waiting for you."

Emma nodded and proceeded further into the room, removing her trench coat as she went. "Everything all right, Ms. P?" Mercedes asked with a quirked eyebrow. She didn't like the way Will and Emma were acting. She was a slayer; she should be told what's up.

Emma gave the slayer a tentative smile before looking at Tina, Mike, Artie, and Sam. "I'll be all right, Mercedes, I just…" But what could she say? Was she all right? Would she be? Would any of them?

Will sensed Emma's uncertainty and went to her side, placing a calming hand on the small of the woman's back. "We need to talk," he began, glancing at Emma quickly before looking at the others.

A few minutes later, Mercedes sat front and center on the risers in the choir room, Sam close at her side, with Mike and Tina seated close together behind them, and Artie off to the side. Will was perched at the front of the room in his office chair as Emma stood by the white board, trying to come up with some sort of explanation as she fluffed her hair nervously. This was the problem dealing with teenagers: how could she make them understand how _dire _things had just become without scaring them too much? _Should _she scare them? If it meant that they were more careful…

"Okay," Mercedes began, glancing between both Will and Emma's grave looks. "What's going on? _Someone _better start talking."

Emma cleared her throat as she nodded, trading glances with Will quickly before fixing her stare on Mercedes. "You're right, Mercedes, I'm sorry."

"You should be; acting all cryptic and everything," Mercedes huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm just trying to find the best place to begin."

Will cleared his voice and stood. "Maybe I should start."

"Someone better," Mercedes said, rolling her eyes. Sam rubbed her shoulder as he gave her a sympathetic half smile.

"I got a call late last night from Willy."

"What did that snitch want?" Mercedes grunted, thinking about the greasy bartender.

Will collected his thoughts as he stood by Emma. "He told me that two vampires just came into town: Santana and Brittany."

Mercedes snorted. "They sound _real _badass." Sam chuckled next to her as Artie, Mike, and Tina smiled in agreement. But Mercedes' laughter died off rather quickly when she saw the grim exchange Will and Emma shared.

"Mercedes," Emma sighed, showing strain. "You have _no _idea." The kids traded nervous looks as Mercedes blanched in front of them.

"What's that supposed to mean, Ms. P? I never even heard of them in my slayer training."

"That's my fault," Will said, ducking his head as he did so. Emma rubbed at Will's arm compassionately as he continued. "Mercedes, guys, we've faced a lot of…_things _together over the past year. We've done a lot of good. But…some things…are—"

"Older," Emma explained. Will nodded at her before turning back to his students.

"No one is exactly sure _when _the Unholy Trinity came together—"

"I'm sorry…the _what?_" Mercedes asked, expression somewhat amused. "So we're basically dealing with the lamest bad guys ever imaginable, am I right? Cause that name—"

"Mercedes, _enough!_" Will yelled, slamming the chair he was tightly gripping down. He knew she wouldn't take this seriously. But at his outburst, all traces of smiles left the teenagers' faces.

"Will," Emma chided softly, understanding his anxiety but knowing that it wouldn't help. "The Unholy Trinity, or their Latin name: _Immunda Crux Crucis_, is…" Emma looked skyward as she licked her lips. "The onlyname they go by," Emma said, moving closer towards the choir room stands. "No one is certain when they were turned or when they were fully formed. The signature of their murders began so long ago…" Emma sighed loudly in defeat; there was just so much _unknown _to face. "What _is _certain is that they are a sired family and have been together—_complete—_for roughly a century and a half."

"I'm sorry," Sam began, raising his hand nervously, "a sired family?"

"Emma means that one sired the other who, in turn, sired the next."

"So they're just an incestuous group of vampires," Mercedes said with a roll of her eyes. Will and Emma nodded. "Just great."

"The first—the original beginning of the Unholy Trinity—was created by the oldest vampire known in existence, only referred to as the General," Emma said with wide, fearful eyes, "sometime in the fifteenth century in Russia. The General sired and named the Chief—the oldest referenced name given to the _first_ of the Unholy Trinity—and trained the Chief to…basically be the most brutal and reviled thing ever," Emma breathed, shaking her head faintly in awe of the whole situation.

"I'm already confused," Sam said, eyes shifting to see if anyone else was puzzled: they all were.

"I'll make it easy for you," Will began as he walked over to the white board. "The General sired the Chief sometime in the fourteen hundreds in Russia," he said as he jotted the names on the board, making it almost appear as a family tree. "Somewhere in that timeline, the Chief broke away from the General. It's unclear as to why, but the Chief went out on her own."

"Then, in the seventeen hundreds—and this part is very sketchy—we think the Chief sired the Goddess in the Netherlands," Emma paused at this, giving Will a pointed, fearful look. Will ducked his head before clearing his throat, his eyes trained on his slayer.

"The Goddess…she was a…_the_ Slayerbefore she was turned."

Mercedes' eyes widened as Artie, Tina, and Mike traded terrified looks and Sam stared at his girlfriend in horror. "They can _do _that?" Mercedes asked, slightly panicked.

"Not many do," Will explained, "most just want to kill a slayer, suck her blood. But the General trained the Chief to be brutal, so…" Will trailed off, not really sure how to explain what he had read about the Goddess' turning. A lot of the literature contradicted itself. Some said that the Chief wasn't even there when the Goddess was turned, but the Unholy Trinity's legend said they were a sired family.

Emma was at his side, shaking so soundly that even the kids noticed. "The Chief is _particularly_…depraved," she finished with a hard swallow. "The description of what she did to the Goddess before changing her, of some of her kills…" Will took Emma into his arms to try and calm her.

"And last but not least is the Warrior. No one is certain when the Warrior was sired by the Goddess, but we're sure it was shortly after the Goddess was turned."

"Some historians claim that there are only three, hence the use of _trinity_. Others say they travel with a fourth from time to time who really isn't a part of their clan, who is just a concubine for the Chief. Scholars believe the Chief picks a human or perhaps a witch or even a slayer," Emma said. "There are a few mentions that the Chief is desperate to fall in love just like the Goddess and Warrior. No one is really certain. Anyone who meets them usually ends up dead," Emma mumbled, laughing nervously as she shook, "so not a lot of information is known."

"There are whole books on their legend. The timeline often varies. The names, origins, and locations are sometimes different—the only common thread that runs throughout the legend is that they are…_evil_, old, and apparently the most beautiful creatures who ever lived."

"So, let me get this straight," Mike said as he sat up, "The General—the oldest vampire in existence—sired the Chief. Who sired the Goddess—a _slayer_. Who then sired the Warrior."

"Sums it up," Emma nodded solemnly.

"So who are Santana and Brittany?" Tina asked.

"They're the more modern names given to two of the Unholy Trinity. Given Santana's ethnicity, scholars assume she's the Warrior because she looks neither Russian nor Dutch. No one is positive for sure, but based on some slayer's accounts from dreams and visions they've had that include past slayers, we can assume Brittany is the Goddess." Everyone was quiet for a moment as they absorbed the information. "And they happen to be in town," Will grimaced.

Emma cleared her throat as she steadied herself, trying not to think about what happened in the Magic Box. "Santana visited me last night." The kids gasped and traded anxious looks.

"Are you okay, Ms. P?" Tina asked worriedly.

Emma smiled back and nodded. "I'll be fine. She mentioned Brittany, so we should assume she's in town as well. Santana also said they're not alone; whether that means the other member of the Unholy Trinity is here, I can only guess. Now," Emma said, moving about the room as she thought. "I took to some Wiccan chat sites last evening…" the kids tried to stifle their laughter, "…and heard some things.

"Apparently, the Unholy Trinity was thought to be eliminated. There were rumors that a clan of witches in North Korea may have killed at least one of the Unholy Trinity a year before—if that's the case, we must assume it was the Chief because we know Santana and Brittany are here. Though, the accounts of what happened in North Korea are convoluted…" Emma trailed off, biting her thumbnail. "We know a prominent, young witch in the area was killed. There are mentions that her clan retaliated against the Unholy Trinity. But for some reason, no real documentation was recorded, and everyone in the clan seems to have disappeared. But Santana definitely mentioned Brittany's name and said they weren't alone. They only travel with one another, never with another group of vampires. So it sounds like the accounts in North Korea may be incorrect and all three of the Unholy Trinity are alive and well. Well…not _alive_,alive…you get what I mean…" Emma trailed off, flustered.

"The point is," Will continued, pushing off the piano to stand beside Emma, "that we all need to be on our guard. Maybe stay off the streets for a bit."

"Now hold on, Mr. Schue," Mercedes said, sitting up in her chair. "If these chicks are as dangerous as you and Ms. P say they are, then I got to be out there protecting people."

Emma and Will traded looks as the kids all started talking at once, pleading their case about how the town was theirs to protect, and they wouldn't sit idly by. The bell rang loudly throughout the school, getting everyone to stop talking.

"We'll talk more about this after glee," Will told the kids. "Until then, just go to your classes and keep your heads down. Emma and I will try to find out more."

The kids grumbled as they rose, not happy with the idea of running scared. Mercedes the least pleased. When the room was empty, save the two adults, Will softly placed a hand on Emma's arm, getting her attention.

"Hey, you okay? Really?"

Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Things just got a whole lot scarier, didn't they?"

Will smiled sympathetically. "We'll deal with this just like we've dealt with everything else. In the mean time, maybe you should stay away from the Magic Box. Just until we figure out a little more."

Emma nodded but was still thoughtful. "I don't think that's going to slow the Unholy Trinity down, Will. Not if Santana really wants something."

Will's brows furrowed. "I wonder what she wants with a witch…"

X

Brittany groaned contently as she stretched in bed, covers pooled around her naked waist. Santana sat at her lover's feet and gently removed the right one from the blankets. "How'd you sleep, my love?" she asked as she started to massage the foot.

Grinning brightly, Brittany flopped back onto the bed. "Awesome!"

Santana brought the foot up to her mouth and placed a kiss on the arch. "Visions? Nightmares?"

Brittany thought a moment before she shook her head vigorously. "Nope! Just dreams of you and memories of all the cool stuff we've done."

Santana smiled against her lover's foot, and placed another kiss there. "I took a field trip to the local hoodoo shop and did some asking around about witches. I should have you one by tonight, baby."

Sitting up slightly, Brittany grinned at Santana. "Okay, but the witch needs to be Asian."

Santana's eyebrows inverted. "Asian?"

"Korean!" Brittany beamed.

Santana dropped Brittany's foot, getting her lover to pout. "B…what exactly do you need with this witch?"

Brittany smiled mysteriously. "Hey, San, do you remember the day I turned you?"

Immediately smiling, Santana crawled up and over Brittany's body until her lips hovered over her lover's. "How could I forget?"

"That was a super awesome night."

"Yes, it was," Santana agreed, smirking. "I remember everything about it."

"You tasted _so _good, San, I didn't think I'd ever stop drinking."

"Death would have been just fine with me, after experiencing something _that _amazing, baby," Santana husked in return, the sights and sounds of that night flooding her instantly.

_San Sebastian, Puerto Rico  
1868 _

Santana's head was thrown back in laughter, her eyes bright and charmed. Brittany sat beside her in bed, speaking awkward Spanish about some of her more humorous travels. She was currently telling Santana about a theft she had pulled off in Constantinople that involved using ducks as a diversionary tactic.

"Brittany, you funny very," Santana told the girl in broken English.

Brittany beamed back, pleased with how far she'd come in her Spanish, and in getting closer to Santana. Since her mommy had made her into a vampire, a very important message had been drilled into young Brittany's head: see, want, take, have…_unless_ you desire something so thoroughly that you're desperate for it to take _you_. To beg _you_. Brittany needed to experience that as well. She wanted Santana to beg her. They had been together for a month. Just Brittany and Santana.

Santana, for her part, was the happiest she ever remembered being. During their days together, she and Brittany would lay around, talking, telling stories, and exploring the humongous house she assumed Brittany lived in. Santana was aware that there were more occupants of the mansion, but they were never around during the day, and at night, she and Brittany would take walks around the grounds, holding hands and staring at the moon and the stars.

Santana had grown to love the stars, for perhaps the first time in her eighteen years. And jasmine. Jasmine ran wild around the mansion, permeating the air with its deep, rich scent. Santana had never smelled jasmine before: it wasn't native to the area. But apparently Brittany and her companions traveled with it, and it became one of Santana's favorite aromas.

When Santana was too tired to continue talking, laughing, and staring at Brittany, she would lay in bed thinking of her family. Most nights, Brittany would hold her as she cried for all that she had lost. For her parents and siblings who had met such a violent end. They would haunt her in her dreams.

It wasn't often, but there were rare moments when Brittany would leave Santana's side. She would be vague with her new friend as to where she would go, but when she would return, she would shower Santana with hugs and kisses until Santana forgot all about her sadness and the secrets she knew Brittany was keeping from her. Because there were certain things Brittany would not talk about. Like who else lived in the house. Where she would go when she briefly left Santana's side. Brittany's family and past. And what would happen next.

When she was alone, however, Santana found herself counting down the seconds until her new friend was at her side. It was a strange occurrence for Santana, never having had a friend to miss before. She would wonder if all young girls felt that way about their friends. If they would allow themselves to be held each night and kissed on the cheek so often. And enjoy it so thoroughly.

It was a topic on Santana's mind that night as she and Brittany shared a moonlight stroll, staring at the stars, holding hands tightly, and exploring the Robles waterfall.

"Brittany," Santana whispered softly, not bothering to raise her voice over the pounding of the falls: Brittany's hearing was perfect, Santana knew. "Why do you call me beautiful? Why do you kiss me and touch me like you do?"

Brittany frowned hard as she tried to weed through Santana's Spanish and broken English. Both girls were trying their best to speak to one another using as much of the other's language as they could, and mime their requests in an effort to teach further. "Because I love you, duh," Brittany answered casually, swinging their joined hands back and forth.

It was Santana's turn to frown. Brittany told her she loved her frequently. This was very new to Santana. Her family had rarely shown affection and had almost never voiced their feelings. Santana had been taught to keep those things to herself. Brittany, Santana had quickly learned, did not. But Santana liked it, so she never complained.

Santana took a seat at the water's edge and thought deeply about everything that had happened over the last month. As she allowed herself to dwell, it all became so very queer to her. She hardly noticed that Brittany had let go of her hand and was standing at her side. And it wasn't until Brittany's long, pale dress fell before Santana, quite void of Brittany's body, that she careened out of her musings.

Not able to put thoughts together, Santana blinked rapidly down at the dress and picked it up. Her hands glided through the material, so rich and soft. The sound of a loud splash made Santana pick her head up, and she laughed, astonished, as she watched Brittany's dark blonde hair bob in and out of the water.

"What are you doing?!" Santana asked, now noticing Brittany's undergarments also discarded along the bank.

"Come swim with me, San, come swim with me under the moon!"

Santana let out a belly of a laugh, her hands against her cheeks, and shook her head in amazement. "But my clothes…they will get wet!"

Brittany swam towards her then, smiling widely, and proudly pulled herself out of the water until she stood in front of Santana—eyes and mouth large, gaze racing over the pale, glistening skin—and held out her hand. "Getting wet is kind of the point," Brittany grinned in reply.

Santana gaped for quite some time, startled as different emotions pounded down in time with the waterfall. Brittany grew impatient, and rolled her eyes as she took Santana's hand from her lap and pulled her to stand on shaky legs.

"I am supposed to wait until you ask. Mommy told me to wait until you are ready, until you crave me." Santana's brain quickly tried to make sense of the English, so very unsure. "I do not want to wait anymore, Santana. We heard there are hunters in the area, anything could happen. We want to leave here soon and I cannot go another day wondering if I could lose you."

Gasping slightly at the sensation of Brittany's naked body suddenly against hers, Santana stood still as she felt the waterfall's pounding force surge through her, from toes to coursing blood. "Brittany?" Santana whimpered, suddenly heady with Brittany's lips at her throat.

"A little now, a little later. Then a _lot_ when we make love."

Santana exhaled loudly as she felt the pricks to her neck. Brittany grasped at her waist painfully, and Santana let her new friend support her weight as she felt herself fall back, body dangling, all thoughts mystifyingly adrift.

It didn't hurt. And Santana was uncertain of what was transpiring. A moment later Santana found her heavy eyes fluttering open to see Brittany smiling softly down at her. "More soon, after we swim."

Still confused, neck slightly sore, Santana let Brittany strip her bare, thoughts swirling. She was led into the water and Brittany held her body as she was twirled and spun. A little weak, Santana didn't protest when Brittany pulled her close, their naked bodies sliding against one another. And when Brittany lowered her mouth to Santana's neck again, all Santana could do was clutch at Brittany's soft shoulders and then stare up in confusion when her friend pulled away a moment later.

"I dreamed of you for so long. And then I got a vision of this when my mommy made me like her. Tonight, you become like us. And I am going to drink you here," Brittany said, gliding her hands up from Santana's waist until she was cupping her breasts. Santana gasped, and then whimpered as her own hand was led to Brittany's thigh. "You are going to drink me here. And _after_,you will drink me here," Brittany whispered, moving Santana's hand until she was cupping her sex.

And then they were kissing. The kind of kiss that drowns out the sounds of the waterfalls and everything else around them. Clothes forgotten, Brittany carried Santana back to the mansion, Santana's long legs wrapped snuggly around Brittany's body, until they were moving against one another in their shared bed.

For Santana, it still felt like she was standing under that waterfall. She had no sense of anything around her, all her emotions were crashing down on her, and, try as she might, she couldn't keep a hold of a single one—they all slipped away before she could understand. It felt fantastic and terrifying and arousing and painful and everything she had ever wanted. She let Brittany pin her arms above her head, let her skate her body against the places Santana didn't even know she wanted her friend to be. They spoke a language that was universal to each other. And Brittany kept her promise.

This time, Santana couldn't help but scream out in pain. Unlike before, Brittany tore through her skin, ravenous with want and hunger, and pierced Santana's breast to suck the blood that poured out to greet her. It was unlike anything Brittany had ever felt and tasted. It was different than when she drank Santana at the waterfall; Santana's fear and excitement seeped from every part of her, now knowing what was happening and what to expect. Her adrenaline was so strong, Brittany couldn't swallow fast enough; so imbibed in everything that was the woman she loved. Her thoughts were blank, every instinct to devour took over, and Brittany wanted nothing more than to relish until every drop was drunk.

The eerie quite of the room was punctured with sounds of Brittany's gulping and nothing more. Gone were Santana's cries and groans of pain and arousal. Even her faint breathing could no longer be heard. Once rich and dark, Santana's skin was now grayish and ethereal. Her chest appeared unmoving to the human eye. If Brittany was able to pull herself away, she would have noticed the slight movement, but with each suck and pull from Santana's chest, it was getting harder to detect even to a vampire's keen sight.

And still, Brittany consumed.

Suddenly, with a loud, rancorous snarl, Brittany was ripped away from Santana's shredded and bloody breast. It took a moment for her to understand that she was standing, too busy straining away from her unexpected confines to return to instinct. The soothing sounds of hushes and nonsensical murmurs finally got her to stop struggling. Brittany blinked down at her feet and watched as a drop of blood splashed on her pale skin. She cocked her head in confusion and looked over at Santana's still body.

"_Ah, ah, ahhh_," the voice of her captor playfully crooned in her ear. Brittany felt a thumb swipe her chin to remove a bead of blood before sucking it clean with a moan. "Not too much now, baby." Brittany looked up at the voice, chastised—her face a bloody mess—before looking back at Santana's almost-corpse.

Again, meeting the voice's eye, Brittany gazed dolefully into the deep hazel. "I'm sorry, Quinn."

Quinn smirked back before dipping her head to lick Brittany's lips clean of Santana's blood. "That's okay, my love," Quinn said, her voice dropping considerably before she straightened, her beautiful face becoming suddenly impassive and primal. "Now it's her turn."

Brittany got on the bed and moved until she was straddling Santana's head and glanced over her shoulder to watch Quinn undress. Looking down at Santana's tranquil face, Brittany waited until she felt Quinn's naked body against her own before tenderly lifting Santana's head.

"Now," Quinn whispered in Brittany's ear as she danced her fingertips along Brittany's skin, smirking as she gazed down at the near-lifeless body, "the fun begins."

_Lima, Ohio  
Present Day_

The school bell shrieked throughout the halls just as Rachel Berry wearily took her seat in her fourth class of the day, already lost and behind. She glanced beside her to find a boy in a wheelchair smiling brightly at her, his eyes welcoming behind his glasses.

"Everyone, settle down," their teacher said at the front of the room. "We'll be talking more about The Great Plague that swept through The Kingdom of England. So take out your text books and turn to page 159 and read the chapter before I split you into pairs to discuss."

As everyone moved to obey their teacher, Rachel glanced around nervously: she didn't have a text book yet _or _a partner.

"Here," Artie whispered to Rachel, pushing his book so they could both read. "We can share," he said with a smile.

Rachel returned the smile as best she could. "Thanks. I hate history," she frowned.

"Me too," Artie whispered back. "First day here?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. My dad had to move because of his job," she said, rolling her eyes with scoff. "It sucks. He had to give Figgins a big check for the performing arts department to let me in so late in the school year."

Artie chuckled. "He didn't have to do that: Figgins will let people in and out of this school whenever," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm Artie."

"Rachel," she said and shook his hand politely.

"So, the performing arts? Like glee club?" He asked with a growing smile.

After class, Artie had volunteered to show Rachel around and take her to get the text books she'd need. They both had lunch next, and Rachel was relieved that she wouldn't have to sit alone in the cafeteria: she had seen _Mean Girls_.

"What do you think of McKinley so far?" Artie asked as she swallowed down a huge bite of his Sloppy Joe.

Rachel pushed around her salad with her fork before taking a bite. "It's an adjustment. I've only been home schooled, so everything is kind of new."

"Well, don't tell anyone you've been home schooled, and just try and keep from getting Slushied or dumpster tossed and you should be all right," Artie told her with a reassuring smile and nod.

Rachel's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry…_what_?!"

But Artie's attention was elsewhere. "Oh, there are my friends. They're in glee too." Artie waved at Mercedes, Sam, Mike, and Tina where they stood in line. "Mercedes usually takes lead in most performances. Her boyfriend, Sam, duets with her. Mike isn't much of a singer, he mostly dances. And Tina and I are backup vocals. How about you?"

It took Rachel a moment to tear her gaze away from Tina and Mike to allow what Artie just said to sink in. She frowned, removing her gaze from the kids in line to look down at her tray. "I don't sing much."

Artie bobbed his head. "It's cool. Mr. Schue lets everyone into glee, as long as they audition."

Rachel's fearful gaze snapped back up to Artie. "I don't sing anymore!" She hadn't in nearly a year.

Sensing that something about the idea of singing had seriously upset Rachel, Artie only smiled kindly. "It's cool. Your parents donated a ton of money to glee, I'm sure that will be enough for Mr. Schue." Temporarily sated, Rachel gave him a small grin as the kids joined them at the table.

"Who's your friend, Artie?" Tina asked with a smile. Introductions were made and Rachel tried her best to be polite and act interested in everyone. She told them she was eager to attend glee later that day and promised to meet up with Tina and Mercedes outside their respective classes to make the walk to the choir room together.

So far, Rachel's first day of school was going smoothly enough. The fact that she had met two Asian students and had befriended them: icing on the cake. It would have been almost a perfect day, if it weren't for the fact that Rachel was Slushied as she waited in the hallway for Tina and Mercedes.

"Nice outfit, freak!" the girl had laughed right after she threw the red Slushie in Rachel's face. She and her friend in the cheerleading uniforms both laughed loudly as they strutted away, a chorus of laughter echoing around Rachel in the hall.

"I see you've been welcomed to the school," Tina had said with a sympathetic frown as she and Mercedes approached the stunned Rachel.

The girls led her to the nearest bathroom to get cleaned up. "This sort of thing is just _accepted _by the staff?" Rachel gritted out, trying her best to dry her wet head.

Mercedes gave a shrug. "Nothing happens to the popular kids here, Rach. Best get used to it. _Especially _the Cheerios. If you mess with girls like Kitty Wilde and Sara Kline, consider yourself a moving Slushie target." Rachel gave a disgruntled huff and the three took off to glee club.

Just like Artie had told her, Mr. Schuester allowed her to be in glee without auditioning. Rachel suspected it was because of her hefty donation, and not the fact that she almost got teary-eyed when she told the man that she no longer sings. He kindly squeezed her shoulder and said that she could dance in the background. Rachel didn't miss Mercedes' pleased smile.

She met more people and more potential friends: the friendly Blaine who happily sat next to her—much to Rachel's dismay because he smelled funny, like too much hair product and plaid; Wade Adams and Marley Rose both waved and smiled; Jake Puckerman smirked; Ryder Lynn gave a nod; Sugar Motta didn't even glance up from her nail examination; and Kitty Wilde rolled her eyes. Rachel zeroed in on Kitty for a moment, feeling blind rage pound throughout her. It took everything inside of Rachel not to attack, still sticky from the Slushie. She kept her cool as she took her seat to watch the glee club perform their rendition of _Hey Ho_.

When New Directions was finished, they all jumped and cheered, obviously proud of themselves. Rachel clapped politely and thought it was best to keep to herself how much they sucked.

"If you guys keep performing like that," Will said, grinning ear to ear, "we'll have no problems taking Nationals this year!" The club cheered in response, as though they had actually _just _won Nationals. "Mercedes, Sam, Tina, Artie, Mike…please stay behind. I have some Spanish class stuff I need to go over with you."

"See you tomorrow, Rach?" Tina asked with a smile. Rachel nodded and slowly collected her things, curious as to why Will wanted to talk with kids; especially because Mike was in her French class, _not _Spanish. As the other glee kids took off for home, Rachel stood in the hallway, just outside the door, listening in.

"Guys, Mercedes, I want your word you won't go out patrolling tonight." Inside the room, Will stared at his slayer firmly as the other kids shuffled in their seats.

As far as Mercedes and the rest of them were concerned, there was no way they wouldn'tbe going out that night on patrol. Mercedes was a slayer, it was her duty to protect people. She already discussed it with her boyfriend and friends: they'd be going out that night no matter what.

"Mr. Schue—"

"No, Mercedes! As your watcher, I'm ordering you _not _to go out. With Brittany and Santana out there, it's too dangerous!"

"But I'm a _slayer_," Mercedes stressed.

"I don't care. It's too dangerous. Stay inside. That goes for all of you as well."

There was a chorus of "fines" and "okays" from the five kids before they unhappily slunk out of their seats.

In the hallway, Rachel was thoughtful. Hearing movement close to the door, she took off to hide before the kids left the choir room.

"We're still going out tonight, right?" Sam asked at his girlfriend's side. Behind them, Mike, Tina, and Artie carefully listened in to the slayer's response.

"Of course we are."

"But you heard what Mr. Schue said," Tina offered, slightly nervous.

"I'm a slayer," Mercedes said forcefully, "and I make the calls."

"And besides," Sam said, throwing an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, "he's not the watcher of me." They all laughed as Rachel stepped out from behind her hiding spot to watch the five kids make their way down the hallway and out of the school. Slowly, Rachel began to smile.

X

Willy the bartender groaned softly to himself as he watched Rachel make her way over towards him wearing a leather jacket and tight, black jeans. He quickly held up his hands in defense. "I did what you said, I told the slayer and her watcher about those two vamp chicks. I don't have any other information!"

Rachel ignored him as she took her seat at the bar. "Thanks for that," she said with a fake smile. "Give me a Jack and leave me alone."

Looking unsure, Willy poured her drink and slid it across the bar to Rachel. "You know, ever since you came to town, my cliental have been nervous. I can't have you in here."

Rachel glanced around, and, sure enough, the place was almost empty. Those still there—a rather flabby demon and three vampires—were making a quick exit. "I can't say that upsets me," she mumbled before downing her shot.

"I gotta make a living, kid. You're scaring away my customers! Aren't there other bars you can go to?"

Rachel smacked her lips and motioned for another drink. "They card. Just pour the drinks and leave me alone; I'm just killing time until I have elsewhere to be."

Willy huffed and did what he was told: he wasn't a complete idiot.

X

Mercedes, Sam, Tina, Mike, and Artie made their way through their third cemetery of the night. Surprisingly, everything was so far quiet. "Man, this sucks! I could totally use a good slaying. Where are all the vamps?" Mercedes asked, leisurely strolling around the different tombstones.

At her side, Sam nodded. "It's as dead as a cemetery around here."

Mike chuckled. "Good one, dude." He and Sam fist pumped.

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking. I have a really bad feeling about this," Tina said as she pushed Artie's chair.

Mike slung an arm around her and pulled her close. "I'll protect you. Hand to hand or a little magicks, I'll make sure you're safe." Tina beamed up at him, glad she had her boyfriend with her. His training was coming along much faster than her own. She admired his focus.

"Finally," Mercedes said, spotting a vamp a few yards away. "I'm gonna enjoy this," she smiled, already taking off towards the vampire who had his back to her. Sensing her coming, the vampire turned around and grinned when he saw her. "Keep smiling, pretty boy, you're about to become dust."

The kids hurried to help their friend, just in case she needed it, as Mercedes landed the first punch to the vamp's face. He stumbled back, smiling wider, and executed a perfect right-left combination before jumping in the air to give Mercedes a roundhouse kick to the jaw.

Mercedes fell back, and Sam was quickly there to help her up. With a sneer, Mercedes went to give her patent attitude, "This vamp is about to get—" But the sudden appearance of another vampire cut her off.

"Aw, come on, Brody, can I have a turn?" Mercedes and the kids froze. At vampire Brody's side stood another vampire with long dreadlocks.

Brody gritted his teeth. "Joe, this one is _mine_."

"But she's a slayer, youngling, maybe I should have a go." If Brody didn't have his vampire face on, he could pass for human because of his modern dress. Joe, on the other hand, looked much older. Underneath his long black coat, which brushed the ground by his bare feet, he was shirtless. The collar of his coat was up high around his pale neck, giving the impression that he was centuries old.

Mercedes wiped her mouth free of blood, her friends closing in around her. "Don't worry, boys, there's enough of me to go around," she threatened, jaw clenched.

"I'll say," said another vampire, coming out of the shadows, looking her up and down. "And I can't wait to have a taste," he leered.

The kids slowly backed up as the new vamp joined the other two. "_Puck_," Joe sneered, "I thought your orders were to stay behind."

Puck smiled widely before his face quickly morphed to show long teeth and eager eyes. "New orders when we picked up this one's scent," Puck said, motioning to Mercedes.

"_We_?" Mercedes whispered. She and her friends were suddenly very scared.

"Yeah, slayer," another new voice called, a few yards behind the three vampires. "_We_."

There, standing proudly in a group, were no less than ten vampires. "Oh. Shit," Mercedes whimpered, feeling the bodies of her friends around her start to shake.

"Now would be a good time to run," Brody smirked.

Everyone acted at once: Mercedes immediately went after Brody with an uppercut to the jaw and a kick to Puck's stomach, knocking the two away. Joe sneaked away to watch, suddenly amused with his evening. The hoard of vampires ran towards the kids. Thinking fast, Mike cast a bubble spell around Artie, and stood in front of Tina as the first vampire reached them.

Sam was fast on his feet, and took out a vamp before spinning to watch Mercedes dust one and then another of the hoard. Mike dusted the one he was fighting with his crossbow and beamed as he saw Tina take out a vamp that had just bounced off of his bubble spell protecting Artie. Eight to Five odds were a lot better than thirteen to five. Suddenly confident, the kids went after the remaining vamps.

"SLOPPY! _Sloppy_, babies!" Everyone at once seemed to freeze at the new voice. The vamps quickly retreated, regaining formation at the base of a mausoleum. Now, with vampires not distracting them, the kids looked up to see a female vampire atop the crypt, looking furious. "You are taking on four and a half _children_! You think that's hard, try fighting the entire Spanish Inquisition at once, _that's _hard!"

"But, Sue," Puck whined, turning to look up at the woman, "they got a slayer, and the boy knows magicks." The kids were wide-eyed as they watched on. This Sue woman wore a tracksuit, and paced the top of the Mausoleum as though she were a coach, not leading an army of vampires.

"What should we do?" Sam whispered, slightly out of breath. They were close enough to the hoard that any false move and the vamps would be right back on them, fighting. Mike felt his bubble spell fading, and the kids were already exhausted. Taking on nine more vampires quickly felt next to impossible.

"I don't think we can get away," Mercedes mumbled. Beside her, Tina whimpered and fingered the large, wooden cross she wore around her neck.

"And my protection spell is wearing off, Artie. You better take the crossbow," Mike whispered, passing off his weapon before removing the stake in his back pocket.

"All right, all right!" Sue finally called, sick of hearing her army whine. "It's agreed, we'll go in shifts to see which one of you morons gets to feed off the slayer, and because he killed that slayer in Damascus, I'll let Brody cook the boy witch down there."

"Guys," Tina whimpered, "we got to get out of here." They all nodded, petrified.

"_Ah ah ahhh_." Collectively, the five kids spun around to find a woman standing behind them with long, blonde hair and a grin. "Don't leave yet; now the fun begins," the woman said, a gorgeous smirk spreading across her face.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Half the kids spun around as Sue stood on top of the mausoleum, staring at the blonde woman, the other half kept their eyes on the new arrival. "Q? Is that you?!"

"Hi'ya, Sue," the woman smiled, her white teeth gleaming.

"Quinn! What the hell are _you _doing in Lima, Ohio?! Don't you have some crazy Unholy Trinity shenanigans to get into?" Sue asked, seemingly pleased to see Quinn.

As Quinn chuckled, all grace and beauty, the kids' eyes widened, and they traded terrified looks at the mention of the Unholy Trinity. They were not alone, however, as most of the vampires traded surprised looks as well.

Quinn swept her long hair off her shoulder. "Just making a pit stop for a little something. Heard your voice, thought I'd say hi."

Sue put her hands on her hips as she scoffed. "I haven't seen you since—"

"Tibet," Quinn answered. "And here I thought I left you for dead on that mountain."

Sue scoffed. "Since when does one Sue Sylvester not have a contingency plan?"

Quinn hummed her agreement. "Hi, Joe," Quinn fluttered her fingers at the vampire who stood in front of all the others.

"Quinn," he nodded back, the only calm vamp in the hoard.

"So, you're the great Quinn Fabray," Brody sneered, pulling away from the other vampires to stand slightly ahead of Joe, "the _Chief_," he stressed sarcastically. Both Sue and Quinn started chuckling softly as Brody fumed. He was feet from the kids, but he only had eyes for Quinn. "I heard you were spayed. Poor little girl can't get it up anymore," he spat out the words as though they were dirty, but Quinn kept her smile.

"Yeah, Q, what's that all about?" Sue said, folding her arms across her chest. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about the five kids. "Heard about your little Asian run-in. Thought I trained you better than that."

Quinn laughed musically as she smiled up at Sue. "Why don't you let your pet come over here and see for himself what I'm still capable of."

Without so much as a word from Sue, Brody growled at that, and took off after Quinn—getting the kids to jump out of the way. But Quinn was ready. She quickly dodged his careless dive and used his momentum to knock him off his feet. Standing astride his head, Quinn reached down and grabbed his neck, tugging powerfully, until his head ripped clean off, turning to dust mid-air as she threw it away. The rest of his body exploded into particles, and Quinn clapped her hands free of the debris.

The kids stood, stunned, as did the other vampires—save Joe and Sue. Quinn nonchalantly turned back towards Sue, slipping her hands inside her long, white pea coat, and watched as Sue threw back her head to laugh. "Haven't lost your touch, I see, Q."

Quinn only shrugged. "What are you doing here, Sue?" she asked, suddenly serious.

It was Sue's turn to shrug. "I heard there was something in this town you and yours may be looking for. Thought I'd get here and try to get it first."

"So you _weren't _surprised to run into me," Quinn smiled. "Still pissed about London, I see."

Sue sneered. "_Nobody_ walks away from the General."

Quinn nodded thoughtfully. "I look forward to killing you, Sue."

"And I look forward to killing everything that matters to you, Quinn."

Suddenly, Quinn's face morphed until she looked like a brutal killer, her long teeth sliding down over her ruby red lips, her hazel eyes crackling with hate. "You're going to need a much bigger army, Sue. And all the contingency plans in the world won't stop me from destroying you if you so much as touch a single hair on their heads," she hissed, menacingly.

Sue laughed loudly again, pleased that she had riled Quinn. "You shouldn't have left me, Q. I will make you pay. I will torture them as you watch. I'm sure you know they're in town."

Quinn's jaw clenched. "Of course I know they're here. I feel them _everywhere_."

"Then I hope you can feel it when I turn them to dust," Sue hissed.

To Sue's surprise, Quinn laughed loudly, her face changing back to human and a picture of ease. "Oh, Sue, you never learn. By all means, train your little army to flip and twirl their way through fights. You are no match for us. Never have been. You turned a whole Tibetan monastery into an army of vampires, even the Dalai Lama himself, and still, you couldn't beat us. Good seeing you again, Sue, Joe. Looking forward to ripping your heads from your bodies."

Quinn turned casually, hands still in her pockets, and slowly made her way out of the cemetery as everyone watched.

"She's going to be a problem," Joe said, eyes still falling where Quinn disappeared.

"She always is," Sue replied icily. "But," Sue's face cleared until she was smiling, "in the mean time, we have a slayer to kill along with her friends. Who wants to eat the witch now that Brody's dead? Any takers?"

The kids were abruptly shaken out of their spell now that Quinn was gone and the show was over. They traded looks, and quickly turned to run off in the direction Quinn had gone, Mike pushing Artie as fast as he could.

"Puck, David, go after them," Sue barked.

As Puck and Dave took after the kids, Joe sprung in the air and clambered up the side of the mausoleum to stand on top beside Sue. Both vampires looked grim. "So this is why we're here? To exact vengeance on the Unholy Trinity?" Joe asked.

Sue's turned to him, looking severe. "I can't let her get away with this. Or let _her _get away with this," Sue spit out, looking enraged. "You were there. You heard what shesaid about me! Quinn is _mine_. And if she won't join us again…I will destroy the only things she cares about to punish her."

Joe held his hands behind his back as he stared out over the cemetery. The vampires below were growing bored now that the action was over. "Perhaps I should have a look around town?"

Sue inhaled deeply; Quinn's scent was still hovering in the air. "Perhaps you should."

On the other side of town, the bad side of town, Lima Heights, the kids were still running, too afraid to let up until they were at Tina's: the closest house, and their only safe haven at that moment. They knew they were being followed.

"We need to split up," Mercedes said, the only one not yet panting from exhaustion due to her slayer heritage.

"No way," Sam said, gulping for air as he urged Tina to keep moving.

"It's the smartest thing. I stay and fight, you guys take off to Tina's and I'll meet you there."

"There's no way—" Sam began, but Mike cut him off.

"I'll stay. I can fight _and _use magick. We'll meet you there." The kids stopped running for a moment to consider this plan. None of them particularly liked splitting up, but they could hardly run the whole way to Tina's with two vampires on their heels.

Knowing that Sam had to protect Tina and Artie, and trusting Mike to look after his girlfriend, he nodded his consent. "Fine. But promise me you'll be careful," Sam said, speaking directly to his girlfriend.

Mercedes smirked. "I'll kick some ass and probably get to Tina's before _you_," she said cockily.

The kids grinned, used to Mercedes' confidence. "Just promise me," Sam said, firmly this time.

"I promise." They kissed quickly, as did Mike and Tina, before the three kids were off.

"If I wasn't in this wheelchair," Artie grumbled, "we'd never need to split up." Both Sam and Tina ignored the comment, used to it by now; there was nothing they could say.

Mercedes and Mike stood resolved, weapons at the ready, waiting for the vampires. They could hear them now, growling and hissing as they ran. Abruptly, they were upon them. Dave went after Mercedes, lunging in the air, game face on. Puck descended on Mike, fists curled.

Puck and Dave were much better fighters than the kids had gone up against in the cemetery. Punch after punch, kick after kick, the fight didn't seem like it would ever end. Mercedes retreated slightly when she saw Mike fly through the air and land in alleyway between two buildings. She wasn't sure if Puck would go after him or not, so she backed up until she felt the brick of one of the buildings—a bar—against her.

"I can't wait to tear into you, slayer," Dave growled, advancing. Out the corner of her eye, she watched as Puck ran towards the alley. Mercedes knew she'd need to finish Dave off fast in order to help Mike, but Dave began raining punches down on her, and it was all she could do to block his attack.

Unexpectedly, the punches stopped. Mercedes lowered her arms to look up at Dave. His mouth was a perfect O, and he looked surprised. "_Shit_," was all he could say before his body exploded into dust. And there, standing with a piece of driftwood raised, was Rachel.

They stared at one another for a moment, both slightly shocked, before Mike's loud yell broke Mercedes out of her bewilderment. She took off towards the alleyway, just as Puck leaned over Mike's fallen form.

"Oh, _hell _no!" Mercedes screamed. Puck snapped his head up and smiled when he saw her.

"This isn't over, slayer," he said, before he took off running down the alleyway and hopped over the chain metal fence and into the shadows.

"You okay?" Mercedes asked as she helped Mike to his feet.

He rubbed the back of his head where it had collided with the ground, and winced. "I think so. You?"

Mercedes nodded before remembering Rachel. But when she spun around, the girl was gone. "Come on, we better get out of here."

"We'll need to tell Mr. Schue about this," Mike grimaced, leaning on Mercedes for support as she led them out of the alley.

"Yeah," Mercedes agreed, looking around the empty streets for any sign of other vamps or her surprise savior. "I think we better."

As the two kids made their way through town and towards Tina's, Quinn stood atop the bar's roof, smiling at the scene she had just witnessed. She let her neck fall back and tilted her head up towards the sky, inhaling deeply. For the first time in a very long time, Quinn felt at peace. She felt happy. So much had happened that night that she hadn't expected.

When you're over 500 years old, there isn't much that can excite you, that can surprise you. When you're a vampire who has traveled the world many times over, you pile up experiences and adventures. But for Quinn Fabray, on that night, she could almost feel her heart race.


	3. Chapter 3

_Warnings: Major character death and violence._

**Immunda Crux Crucis**

_Moscow, Russia__  
__1481_

Quinn Fabray stood alone with her arms folded across her chest as she stared out into nothingness. The wind was picking up, but she stood there, unmoving, her long blonde hair dancing in the biting breeze.

She was just sixteen years old, and she was pregnant.

Numb to everything, including the light dusting of snow that was soaking into her paltry shoes, Quinn tried to wrap her head around all that had happened to her. In the blink of an eye, she had gone from daddy's little girl to nothing.

Eight months ago, Quinn had been courted by a young man from town. With a chaperon, the two teenagers had shared a walk around the boy's village. He was from money. And although Quinn dressed as if she was, her father only made a somewhat meager living as a boyar. While it was a desirable and authoritative position, the Fabrays presented themselves as being far richer than their purses supported.

Quinn's father, Russell, was eager for his daughter to court someone of wealth, so despite the fact that Quinn wasn't particularly interested in the boy from town, it was clear to her that she had no choice. He had seemed nice enough. Arrogant, but most like him were. He showed her into his large house, and, with a nod to their chaperon, the pair were left alone in a small room lit by a fire.

He was a broad shouldered boy with a haughty expression that matched his disposition. And when he smiled slyly at her, Quinn knew that their day together would not end pleasantly.

There really wasn't much she could do. Crying out was no use. Physically, she was no match. He pushed himself on top of Quinn as she struggled, whimpering. Her tears came fast, and she shut her eyes to block out everything she could. It was over quickly, and she was left alone in the room until the chaperon came to get her and escort her back to the home of her father.

Her mother, of course, understood what had happened. She may have even shared her assumptions with her husband. Nevertheless, the slap across the face Quinn had received from her father two months later spoke soundly of how he felt: whether she was raped or not was of little consequence; Quinn was pregnant, and it was Quinn's fault. There was no use trying to go up against a man of wealth and his family. There would be no justice there. And, as Orthodox Christians, Quinn understood that when an unmarried girl falls pregnant, she would be dealt with accordingly.

"It's time to come back inside." Quinn looked over her shoulder at the nun and nodded. She had been living in the convent as soon as it had been confirmed she was with child. She was taken out of her home in the dead of night, and hadn't seen her parents or sister since.

Once she was to have the baby, it was decided she would take her vows and become a nun. It was the agreement her father had made with the Abbess. They wanted nothing to do with their daughter. Quinn wanted nothing to do with the church. Not that she wasn't grateful to the Abbess, her mentor.

She ate three meals a day in her room and was allowed ten minutes outdoors to soak up the sun. They taught her about her religion and Ivan III Vasilyevich. Prayed for her soul and the soul of her unborn baby. And made arrangements concerning the arrival of the child.

Quinn wasn't sure how to feel. She spoke to no one. Not even the baby inside of her. She wasn't ready to be a mother, even if the Abbess permitted her to keep the child—which she never would because of her impending vows—Quinn was unsure she could take care of herself, let alone another life. Because Quinn wasn't planning on staying at the convent. As soon as she was well enough, she was going to run away. Where to, Quinn had no idea.

The baby had come early.

She was doubled over in bed, groaning as she clutched at her stomach. The Abbess and some others were there to tell her to push. The cries were loud; Quinn's louder than the baby's. She watched helplessly as her child was passed from nun to nun until it was swept from the room. Its echoing cries hung in the air as it was taken from the convent.

The Abbess had said it had been a girl, but it was said in passing to another nun. They quickly attended to Quinn until she was left alone once again. She stayed in bed and hardly ate, plotting her escape. It would come a month later, just after she had received her vows.

She had used a gray, woolen skirt wrapped up as a makeshift bag, packed humbly with scraps of food she could afford to steal. Once again, she was leaving a home in the dead of night. She scarcely made a sound as she left. She traveled as far as she could on foot.

It became quickly apparent to Quinn that stealing could only get you so far. She learned how to be charming to get what she wanted. Dressing the part became apparent. She would flirt with older men to get a meal, and, when flirting wasn't enough, Quinn knew how to play coy and even innocent. She could make a grown man fall to his knees. Make him promise her the world. Before it was Quinn's turn to repay his generosity, however, she would slip away and move on to her next mark.

Using men became second nature to Quinn. She quite enjoyed living luxuriously, never forgetting what life in the convent or those first few months on her own had been like. But still, even sleeping on the softest sheets in the nicest rooms couldn't stop the tears each night as she cried over the loss of her daughter. The loss of her family. The loss of her innocence.

Perhaps that was why she hadn't said no to the wealthy professor. She had met him at a party, surrounded by his peers with their fat bellies and ugly, aged wives. He was younger than most in attendance, and it was easy for Quinn to stand out in any room. He approached her, they flirted, and he promised Quinn security.

Living on your own took its toll. Traveling from town to town to survive took its toll. So Quinn said yes. She and the young professor went back to his house, and Quinn closed her eyes tightly. Every night, she closed her eyes tightly. Including the night she married him. It was easier to keep the tears at bay when you blocked out the world.

It became a habit eventually. Every party was the same. Every beautiful dress he bought her became the same. What changed was Quinn. She was always looking for the exit door. Always planning what would come next. And the young professor took notice. He watched as his wife harmlessly flirted with the older men at parties and balls. Saw the adoring eyes on her. So, he changed too.

The first time he hit Quinn, she swore it would be the last. The exit doors were getting harder to spot. She was comfortable in the life she hated. Without the young professor, she would be right back to square one, out on the street, conning her way into measly earnings and petty theft. A month went by. At least once a week, Quinn would have to nurse the bruises. But with each slap she'd receive, something inside her was growing.

Hatred unlike anything Quinn had ever known bubbled inside her as she watched her husband from across the room of the party. He was already sloppy with drink, and the night hadn't even really begun. Her arm still stung from the day before where he had grabbed her. With disgust as her muse, Quinn flirted with almost every man at the party, hoping the professor would see.

He was beyond drunk by the time they had gotten home. Her husband had immediately started screaming. Making wild accusations. He could barely stand as he slurred his contempt. And when he struck her, it had been easy to pick up the heavy award he had won for his academic excellence. She brought it down on his head, and, without pause, ran to their room to collect her things as fast as she could as the blood from his head flowed and stained their carpet.

In the dead of night, Quinn went back to the streets she loathed. But this time, she was different. Hatred was her constant friend. She hated her parents. The boy in the village. Her husband.

But mostly, herself.

She had to keep her eyes tightly shut many nights. And while she didn't live in a brothel, her reputation was known. It was how she made her living. She had money, but only enough to keep up with appearances to buy fancy clothes that appeased respectable men enough to bring her around to parties and balls to meet other respectable men.

A year later, Quinn lay in the bed and shivered as she thought about her daughter. She had only seen her for a moment, but it was sometimes enough when the sickness took so strong a hold. She had gotten used to the sores and fever, sore throat and the fatigue. The other symptoms hardly registered, at this point. The doctor had been called. Everyone knew it was of no use. A priest was summoned, but her reputation preceded her, and the priest would never come for the likes of Lucy Quinn—the name she went by at that time. So she was surprised when the door creaked open. Quinn winced at the soft light that crept through the doorway before it was closed and a figure sat next to her on the bed.

"Still, after all this time, _so beautiful_." The fever was intense, so Quinn couldn't be sure she was seeing clearly as she looked up at the face hovering over her own. "It has taken me three years, but I've finally found you, Quinn.

"Once a young, innocent girl. Striking. So much potential. Now, just a common whore. You should have stayed, Quinn. But it is of no consequence; I have found you again. I've watched you for a very long time. And now, as you lay dying, I will make you like me. Would you like that, Quinn?"

Quinn blinked up at the woman, confused. "_Abbess_?" she rasped out weakly.

She grinned, her long teeth extending over her red lips. "Oh, Q, you should've just stayed at the convent. I could have just turned you there. But you ran. You stink of filth. I will give you new life. _My_ life. You can have all the wealth you've always wanted. Make a name for yourself. Exact the vengeance you so strongly desire and richly deserve. Would you like that, Q? Would you like to kill your parents and that boy just as you killed your husband?"

Quinn coughed loudly, specks of blood dotted the pale hand she used to cover her mouth. "I deserve to die. Everything I've done. What I had to do. My daughter, _my_ _daughter..._" Quinn wasn't sure of anything. Was the Abbess really there? Did she really know Quinn had killed her husband?

Leaning over Quinn's neck, Sue smiled. "You may call me General. And I will train you to be the most vicious killer the world has ever seen. They will worship you. Just as _you_ shall worship me."

Feeble with the sickness, Quinn hardly made a sound as Sue sunk her teeth into her neck. And when Quinn savagely ripped and sucked at Sue's wrist, Sue threw her head back and laughed at the girl's enthusiasm.

Once vampires wake anew, instinct takes over. It was no different for Quinn Fabray. In the dead of night, in only her bed dressings, she took off with Sue cackling behind her, chasing after the new ferocious beast she had made.

The Fabrays' bodies were found the next day. The boy in the village not long after that. 500 years later, and the two towns near Moscow still tell stories of the horrifying sight of what Quinn Fabray had left in her vengeful wake.

And that had only been the beginning...

_Lima, Ohio__  
__Present Day_

The school was quiet as everyone sat deep in thought. Mercedes, with the help of Mike, Sam, Tina, and Artie, filled Will and Emma in on the previous evening: Sue, her army, Quinn, Puck, and Dave. But mostly what Sue and Quinn had said to one another. Also, the surprising appearance of Rachel.

Will had already yelled at the kids for going out the night before. That was neither here nor there at this point. Now, they were just trying to figure it all out.

"So the Unholy Trinity is here, all together again, looking for something," Will had said after a long silence.

"I think we know what they're after: a witch," Emma supplied grimly.

Tina and Mike glanced at one another uneasily. Will asked with confusion, "And this vampire woman, Sue, wants to stop the Unholy Trinity?" The kids nodded. There was another long pause.

"What should we do about Rachel, Mr. Schue?" Mercedes asked softly, still guilty over letting her watcher down.

Will thought about that a moment. "She didn't say _anything _to you?"

Mercedes shook her head. "Nah, just saved my life and took off."

Will frowned. "Did she seem surprised? Shocked by the fact that the vampire turned to dust?"

All eyes where on Mercedes as she shook her head again. "I saw how she was holding that piece of driftwood, Mr. Schue; she knew what she was doing. There were all types of trash and stuff around: she picked _that _weapon specifically."

"So..." Sam started slowly, "we think she's another slayer?"

Will got up from his chair and moved around the choir room, running a hand through his hair as he went. "Could be. I mean, there are so many slayers out there that haven't been found or trained."

"Okay, but, we know she's not like...a vampire or anything, right?"

Sam found himself leveled with six pairs of eyes. "Dude, this isn't Vampire Diaries; vamps can't just walk out into the sun and sparkle like a pretty, pretty diamond without bursting into flames."

Sam rolled his eyes at Artie. "I know that man, I'm just asking," Sam said, looking sheepish. "But, like, vamps _can't _go out in the sun, right?"

Emma smiled kindly at Sam. "Artie's right, Sam. Just like when they're confronted with Holy Water or crosses, vampires burst into flames in the sun and need an invitation into a house. I suppose Rachel is another slayer."

"No," Will said, thinking hard, "Sam makes a good point. We can't just assume she's a slayer. We've seen too much already to just presume that she's one of the good guys: you don't have to be a vampire to be evil."

"She saved my life, Mr. Schue," Mercedes protested. "I'd hardly call her evil. She could be just as freaked out as I was before you told me that I was a slayer. She could be confused and scared. I think I should talk to her."

Will shook his head. "I think I should be the one. Even if it's just to warn her not to go out at night. That vampire Puck may have seen her. They could be after her." Will took a deep breath. "I think we should have a little chat with our newest student."

"But, like, and maybe I'm a little slow here or something, but if that Rachel chick staked a vamp, and she doesn't _know _she's a slayer, then I'd say she has some pretty killer instincts," Sam said.

"That's a good point. Cedes, you all types of badass," Mercedes smiled at Artie, "but if it wasn't for Mr. Schue, you never would have known why you suddenly had the strength of ten men."

"So we think she knows she's a slayer?" Will asked, looking around at the kids on the choir room risers. They all considered that.

"There could be a lot of reasons why she knew what to do. She could be a slayer, or maybe she just saw the dude's face and thought he was a vampire," said Mike with a shrug.

"I don't know about that," Tina frowned. "Before I knew you were the slayer, Mercedes, and that vamp attacked me outside the Lima Bean, I froze. I mean, I thought something was just wrong with his face. If you hadn't been there to protect me, I would have died."

Mercedes smiled. "I'll always have your back, Tina."

"So," Will said, meeting everyone's gaze for a moment, "what do we think Rachel is? A slayer? Maybe someone in her family was a watcher? A witch?"

"Or something we haven't even come across yet," Emma supplied warily.

"It seems like a really big coincidence, is all," Artie answered thoughtfully. "The Unholy Trinity suddenly is in town. Now this Sue woman—the General. And Rachel just happens to show up at the same time, _and _knows how to dust a vamp like a pro?"

"Maybe she _does _know she's a slayer," Will began. "Many watchers are connected to seers. Maybe she was told to come here and help stop whatever the Unholy Trinity is planning. She may not know we already have a slayer in this town. Could have been surprised to see you fighting one, Mercedes."

"She _did _look a little surprised to see me," Mercedes amended.

"Then I think I should talk to her. See what she knows. I'll do it after glee today," Will said with a nod. Everyone easily agreed and packed up their stuff. Mercedes, however, wasn't sated.

She caught up with Rachel in the hallway on the way to the caf. "Hey, girl," Mercedes greeted unsurely.

Rachel glanced over at her before staring straight ahead. "Hey."

Mercedes' eyebrows rose briefly at the less than friendly welcoming. "I thought we could talk? Skip the caf, head into the choir room?"

Rachel hugged her books closer to her chest and kept walking. She _really _didn't want to have this conversation. "There's nothing to talk about."

Mercedes scoffed and grabbed Rachel's wrist to stop her progress. "Hey, wait—"

Rachel immediately froze and her eyes zeroed in on Mercedes' hand on her arm. Mercedes let go and frowned at her. "_What _is your problem?" she asked quietly, aware of the crowded hallway. "I run into you last night, and you just take off?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and forced herself to keep her cool. "There's nothing to say, okay?" she said heatedly. "You needed a hand, I was there, end of story." As Rachel went to move again, Mercedes quickly got in front of her to halt her progress.

"Firstof all, I needed _nothing_. I had that vamp right where I wanted him." Rachel rolled her eyes again. "Second, the least you could do is explain yourself. Tell me what you are and how you knew to do what you did."

"First of all," Rachel responded with attitude, moving closer to Mercedes as she spoke quietly, "you were seconds away from becoming a blood transfusion." It was Mercedes' turn to roll her eyes. "Second_ly_," Rachel corrected with sarcasm, "I owe you _nothing_. I saved your life. Thank me and move on. We are _not _talking about this."

Mercedes blocked her path again. "I can handle myself _just _fine, don't you worry about it. I just wanted to give you a heads up that that Puck vamp got away and could be coming after you. And he has a whole nest of vamps looking to back him up." Mercedes glanced down at Rachel's outfit. "And something tells me that a chick who wears argyle and knee socks doesn't know shit about taking out a nest of vamps."

Rachel gasped as she inspected her outfit before looking back at Mercedes. "But rhinestones _scream _badass, is that it? Whatever, I'm over this," she said before skirting around Mercedes.

Mercedes groaned as she watched Rachel head down the hallway. "Rachel! Wait!" She hurried up to the girl. "I'm sorry, okay? And thank you for helping me out." Rachel just kept walking. "Look, you may not have helped me, but if I had to fight with that vamp a minute more it may have cost Mike his life. So thank you for that."

Rachel jerked to a halt and narrowed her eyes at Mercedes. "Do you routinely take your friends out patrolling with you, or were you just trying to impress him?"

Scoffing, Mercedes crossed her arms over her chest. "My friends know what's up, okay? And Mike and Tina know magick, so they can protect themselves. Sam can fight and Artie can use a crossbow. They wanna help."

A dark eyebrow slowly rose at the new knowledge about Tina and Mike before Rachel's face became a mask. "That sounds _incredibly _immature and dangerous," Rachel said before taking off down the hall. Mercedes was quick to keep up.

"Look, all I'm sayin' is that we have some stuff to talk about. I'm a slayer, maybe you're a slayer, or you knew a slayer, or a watcher, or you're a witch—" huffing, Mercedes stopped Rachel once again but was quick to remove her hands. "Rach, can't you just tell me how you knew to stake that vamp? There's a lot of big bads in this town, and if we had a little help, it would really come in handy."

Mercedes was momentarily caught off-guard when Rachel reared on her, tears in her eyes. "For the _last _time: I will _not _be talking to you about this. Forget last night. Forget what you saw and what I did. We aren't going to be friends. I will _not _be talking to you about who I am and what I know. Bring this up again, and I swear to God, I will make you regret it." Then Rachel was gone. Down the hallway and out of the school before Mercedes could even blink.

X

"I'm telling you, Mr. Schue, whatever is going on with that girl, we don't want to know," Mercedes said, just after glee practice. They cut their meeting short because Jake, Marley, Kitty, and Rachel were all absent. Mercedes had already recounted what happened with Rachel, and, again, Will scolded his slayer.

"This is why I wanted to handle things, Mercedes!" Will said.

"She sounds like a troubled girl," Emma offered. "Maybe it would be best if you and I both spoke with her, Will."

Will nodded. "We'll head over there tomorrow. If she's really upset, it's best if we give her a day. See if maybe we can find something out. In the mean time," he said, leveling the kids with a firm look, "none of you will be going out patrolling tonight. Understood?" Will nodded when he got a chorus of yeses, and the kids exited the room leaving him and Emma alone.

Mercedes was surprised when she saw that Rachel was in school the next day. Dressed as she always seemed to be, in short skirts and ugly tops, Rachel moved about the hallways as though she was being haunted by ghosts. She didn't make eye contact with Mercedes, and Artie told everyone at lunch that Rachel hadn't spoken to him in history. So it had been a shock when the girl raised her hand later that day in glee club.

"Yes, Rach?" Will had asked. Up to that point, Rachel hadn't even attempted to speak in any of her classes, or so Will had heard in the teacher's lounge. He assumed that she would never participate in glee either, considering how teary-eyed she had gotten that first day. But there she was, hand raised, looking like her mind was a million miles away, as usual.

"May I sing something?" Rachel whispered. Will nodded enthusiastically.

It was Mercedes' automatic response. "I thought you couldn't sing?" The club shot her an annoyed look: Mercedes was always hogging the spotlight. Rachel slowly got to her feet and ignored Mercedes' outburst. "Whatever," Mercedes whispered to Tina, "just because she sings doesn't mean she's any good at it."

Will frowned at his slayer. "Come on, guys. This is a casual day because Jake, Kitty, and Marley are all sick. There's no point in practicing the routine, so if anyone wants to sing, they should feel free. Take it away, Rachel."

The band all sat up a little straighter as Rachel took her spot at the front of the room, ready to start playing when they heard Rachel's song choice. She gave them no indication what she was about to sing, but instead kept her head bowed as she stood with her arms at her sides.

"_It's been seven hours and fifteen days, since you took your love away. I go out every night and sleep all day, since you took your love away_." The kids all traded confused looks. Rachel's voice was flawless, but the song choice was commanding to the point where no one knew what to do. Luckily, Brad placed his hands on the piano and started to play along, the rest of the band joining in slowly

"_Since you've gone I can do whatever I want, I can see whomever I choose. I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant, but nothing, I said nothing can take away these blues. 'Cause nothing compares, nothing compares to you._"

As Rachel continued to sing, her troubled gaze firmly on the floor, everyone watched on in awe. Not only was the song compellingly beautiful, as was the performance, but Rachel's voice was captivating. Tears came soon into the song. But the performance wasn't for anyone in the room, that much was clear. It was evident in Rachel's vacant stare and inability to register that some of the members of the club were lending their voices in the harmonies.

"_It's been so lonely without you here, like a bird without a song. Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling. Tell me, baby, where did I go wrong_?" Rachel cried out, her body doubling over as though she was in physical pain.

It went on like that. Rachel giving the performance of a lifetime effortlessly. When she was finished, she picked her bag, ignoring the swelling applause, and left the room without comment. Will eyed his slayer and her friends. He knew what he had to do.

It was easy for Artie to hack into the school's files to find out the information they wanted—he had done it many times before. And soon, Will and Emma were in Will's tin can-of-a-car on their way to the address in Rachel's records.

"Are we sure this is the place?" Emma asked, looking through the car's window up at the seedy motel.

"This was what was in her files."

They got out and cautiously made their way up the steps to the second story rooms. Finding Rachel's, they glanced at each other.

"Are we sure this is the best thing to do, Will?" Emma asked skeptically.

Will nodded. "You didn't see the performance, Em. She seemed shattered. A shell of a person. We need to talk to her, even if her problems are that of a common teenager, she needs someone to talk to." Emma nodded her understanding, and Will knocked on the motel's door.

"Just a minute," was heard inside, and a moment later, Rachel was staring up at them looking pissed. "You have _got _to be kidding me." She went to close the door in their faces, but Will stopped her.

"Rachel, can we please just talk to you for a minute? Just hear us out."

Rachel rolled her eyes and left the door opened as she made her way back into her room to sit on her bed.

While Will glanced around, Emma took Rachel in, recognition dawning. "You're the girl from the Magic Box!" That got Will's attention.

Controlling her emotions, Rachel slowly let out a gust of air through her nose and looked up at the woman. "I guess this visit doesn't mean my order came in early?"

"What order?" Will asked, looking between Rachel and Emma.

Rachel's nostrils flared in anger. "That is _so _not your business."

"Please refer to me as Mr. Schuester, or, at least, Mr. Schue."

Rachel balked. "And why should I? You both came here unannounced and started making demands."

Will took the chair that was stationed at a small table in the corner of the tiny room and dragged it over towards the bed. He took a seat and looked at Rachel imploringly. "Rachel, we're not here to make demands or even upset you. We just want to know why you're here. There's a lot of really bad things going on, and if you could help us at all, we'd really appreciate it."

Rachel stared at the man incredulously. "I'm sorry, but _what_? That's it? 'You'd really appreciate it'? That's your pitch?"

"I thought maybe we could talk about your song. What happened to you? What happened last night with Mercedes and the vampire you staked?" Will implored desperately. Rachel clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked moments away from losing it.

Emma saw that Will was failing and hurried to intercede. "Rachel, have you ever heard of the Unholy Trinity?"

The change of Rachel's emotions was so quick and severe that it took both Will and Emma aback. One moment, Rachel was a defiant girl. Now, her eyes were full of tears and she was shaking from head to toe.

"_No, no, no! _I can't talk about this," Rachel whispered, the emotions making her sound like no noise at all could escape her trembling lips.

Will and Emma exchanged surprised glances. "Rachel, if you know anything, you have to tell us!" Rachel could only shake her head as she wrapped her arms around herself tighter.

Emma took a dainty seat on the edge of the bed, wary of the seediness of the room, but out of options. "Rachel," she said softly, "the Unholy Trinity is in town. All three of them and—"

Rachel's head jerked up, her eyes slits. "Do _not _speak of them," she intoned dangerously. "I don't care about your little slayer or her stupid friends or this disgusting town! Do you have any idea of what I've lost because of them? What they _did _to me?!" Suddenly, Rachel was off the bed and standing with her back to Will and Emma. Her body was shaking with the force of her tears, but she kept her gaze firmly out the window.

"We don't know what they did to you, Rachel," Will said carefully, "but we know what they're capable of."

Rachel was shaking her head. "You have no idea what they're capable of."

"What did they do to you, Rachel?" Will asked. Beside him, Emma shook her head at the question and placed a hand on Will's arm in warning. He ignored her silent request not to push, and got to his feet to approach the girl. "Rachel, tell us what happened. We can help you."

Rachel spun around, tears flowing down her cheeks. "You can't help me! No one can! Isn't it _odd_ that a seventeen year old girl is staying in a motel room? Isn't it _strange _that I'm here on my own? Starting school so late in the semester? That I would have so much money to waste on a pitiful glee club? That I just happened to have been in that part of town last night, the _bad _part of town?! You think this is a game?" Rachel asked, her gaze bouncing from Will to Emma. "You get to play watcher with your young, inexperienced slayer, messing with books and forces you can't even comprehend! You can't go against the Unholy Trinity! No one can. I'm here for one thing, and one thing only, and as soon as I acquire that orb, I'm _so _out of here." She looked at both of them then, her tears still spilling but her expression resolved. "And I suggest you do the same."

Will and Emma watched as Rachel collapsed onto her bed, huddled into herself as she cried silently. "Rachel..." Will whispered, moving over to squat down by her. "What happened to your parents?" Rachel looked over at Will, and he could see her pain. He swallowed tightly and nodded his understanding. "They killed them, didn't they?" Her silence was confirmation enough.

"What they did to them..." Rachel brushed away her tears furiously. "They're sick," she whimpered. "They play mind games. What they did...how she made me...made me f-f-feel..." Rachel choked out. She buried her face in her arms as her tears started again, this time louder. Her body wracked with sobs. Will stood and ran a hand through his hair.

"Who made you feel, Rachel?" Emma asked cautiously.

"I can't talk about this anymore. I can't! Please don't make me. Please don't make me!"

Will was by her side again, shushing her as he patted her shoulder. "It's okay, Rachel. We don't have to talk about it. Again, Emma shot Will a look of warning. She motioned for him to join her in the corner of the room, hoping Rachel's sobs would disguise their conversation.

"Will, if the Unholy Trinity killed her parents, she may be trying to exact vengeance on her own. The order she talked about? It's the Orb of Pyoulah. It's an old Asian Magick used to—"

Will nodded, "Yeah, I've heard of it. It can suck magic out of something. Almost like a reversal spell."

"Exactly. _Asian_. Last we heard about the Unholy Trinity, they were in North Korea. If one of the Unholy Trinity was there and was cursed or...or...or _something_, Rachel may know about it. Now Rachel wants the Orb. The Unholy Trinity shows up. They killed her family. They hurt this girl. Whatever happened in North Korea could be the key. We have to know more."

Will glanced over at Rachel's still shaking form. She was a ball, curled up into herself as she shuddered with grief. "Is it really fair to ask her? After everything she's been through?"

"Something happened in North Korea, Will, and I think Rachel may know. She could be in danger."

Will sighed. "She's just a kid, Emma. A scared kid who has no one else in the world."

Emma stared deeply into his eyes. "She has us, Will."

They stared at one another for a long moment, silently communicating that they'd be there for Rachel. "Okay," Will said.

Not long after, Will sat in the chair beside Rachel, Emma seated at the foot of the bed. Rachel was taking small sips from a bottled water Will had gotten from the vending machine, looking exhausted but mostly composed.

"It happened so quickly," Rachel whispered, her gaze unfocused as she spoke. "I had been so careless. Just a young, foolish girl in love."

"What happened?" Will asked gently.

Rachel swallowed down her misery. "A little less than a year ago, my glee club and I had performed at a rival school. She had been there. Told me she liked to watch the performances," Rachel laughed without humor. "I-I didn't know what she was," Rachel rasped, her eyes glazed as she stared down at the bed. "Of course I didn't know. How could I? But I should've known better. I should've—" She shook away the thought and collected herself. "She made me fall in love with her," Rachel choked out in a whisper. "I thought what we had was real. Months went by. I-I-lo-loved her," Rachel cried softly, her body trembling again. Emma and Will looked at one another solemnly.

"I invited her into my home. She met my parents. I—how could I have _known_?" Rachel implored, looking up to meet Will's serious gaze. "I thought she loved me back. I thought what we had meant something!"

"What happened next, Rachel?"

She shut her eyes tightly, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms securely around them. "We spent the night together," Rachel whimpered as she began to rock. "We had plans the next day to see each other. She never showed. I went to her house and saw-and saw—"

"You can tell us, Rachel. It's okay. You're safe now," Will said.

Rachel shut her eyes painfully. "There was another girl there," Rachel said in a strangled tone around a fresh bout of sobs. "A blonde girl. They were—they were _feeding _off of someone—a little girl. Quinn saw me through the window. Our eyes met and—"

"_Shhh_, it's okay," Will soothed. He held her while she sobbed again. He looked over at Emma, her face a picture of horror.

"I just ran!" Rachel cried. "I didn't even try and help the girl they were feeding off of—I just ran. I didn't go home. And by the time I did—my parents—I—there was nothing I could do!"

"_Shhh, _Rachel_, shhh. _We have you. It's okay now. It will be okay now."

X

Will and Emma could still hear Rachel's sobbing hours later as they stood in the choir room, Mercedes, Artie, Sam, Tina, and Mike all present. They had recounted what Rachel had told them, the room eerily silent as they all processed it.

"So," Tina began, squeezing Mike's hand as tears clung to her eyelashes, "the Unholy Trinity went after her because they thought she had power? This vampire named Quinn made her fall in love with her...only to kill her family? That's-that's—"

"_Sick_," Mercedes finished. It was one thing to just kill humans, it was an entirely different affair to play mind games with them beforehand.

There was a long silence before Sam cleared his throat. "So...she's a slayer?"

Emma and Will traded looks. "We don't know," Will said gravely. "I asked her a few times, she'd just shake her head like she wasn't even listening to me. My guess? She's a slayer. That's why the Unholy Trinity went after her."

"And she fell in love with a vampire? That has to be the first time that's happened outside of pop culture," Mercedes grunted.

Will shook his head. "It actually happens more than you think."

Mercedes looked dubious. "A slayer falling for a vampire? That's crazy. When I run into a vamp, I'm all overcome with Spidey tingles; ain't no way Rachel didn't know she was a vampire. Slayers are _born _to know."

Emma pushed off the piano and moved closer to the kids and Will. "_The _Slayer fell for a vampire. Two vampires, actually. It happens."

Mercedes' eyes widened as her mouth fell open. "Seriously?" Will just shrugged.

"So we don't think Rachel was lying or anything?" Mike asked, looking between Emma and Will for confirmation.

Emma eyes widened. "Honestly, Mike, no one's that good an actress."

Will nodded. "I think Rachel is a slayer. The Unholy Trinity targeted her. In Emma's and my research, there is a lot of evidence to support that the Chief has done this sort of thing before—made a human fall for her, travel with them, and then slaughter her and everyone she knew. As a slayer, I'm sure Rachel took it very hard that she didn't know the Chief was a vampire, and they killed her parents when she found out the truth: it stands to reason Rachel is here to get her revenge."

"She could've heard about what happened to the Unholy Trinity in North Korea," Emma went on to say. "She figured it was her shot to finish them off, punish them. The Unholy Trinity could be here to stop her."

"That's right," said Will. "So we're going to do our best to look after her. Befriend her. Even work with her, if we can. I'm not so sure we can go up against the Unholy Trinity and the General. So whatever magicks Rachel knows, maybe we can help her. Curse the Unholy Trinity once and for all to end this."

Everyone nodded firmly, ready to do whatever they could.

X

Rachel found herself the victim of many smiles later that day. Every chance Mercedes and her friends had, they would approach Rachel and try their best to start a conversation, compliment her, or give her a friendly wave. Needless to say, a few times throughout school, Rachel found herself nauseated.

"Okay, _enough_!" Rachel had yelled at Mercedes when the slayer complimented her sweater. "I know you hate what I'm wearing," she said as she rolled her eyes, regretting her trip to the secluded choir room now that she was corned by Mercedes without witnesses.

Mercedes shrugged sheepishly, as though she was really trying to like the green sweater with the orange pompoms that covered it. Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "All right!" Mercedes allowed with a huff. "It's freaking hideous."

"Thank you for being honest," Rachel sneered. "Now, can you tell your friends to leave me alone? It's obvious your watcher told you what happened to me, and I'm sick to death of all the sad, puppy dog eyes I'm getting."

"Look, Rach, I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with," Rachel scoffed pointedly, "but..." Mercedes hurried on, "as a fellow slayer, I think I should at least extend a peace offering."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Will told you I'm a slayer?!"

Mercedes beamed. "I knew you were like me." Mercedes expression grew somber. "It's tough dealing with stuff like this alone. I'm just offering my friendship. _But_," Mercedes stressed, continuing on before Rachel could refute that a friendship was the last thing she wanted, "if you don't want that, at least we could be sparring partners. If you don't practice, I'd hate to see you get rusty. Then I'd have to go around saving your ass every time a vamp tried to sink his teeth in ya."

Rachel shook her head, trying and failing to hide her growing smile. Mercedes laughed at the poor attempt. "It _would_ be pretty cool to get some practice in," Rachel grudgingly admitted.

"That's right, girl. And who better to kick your but than another slayer?"

Rachel made a big show of considering this. "_Fine_! Just as long as your friends stop pestering me every freaking second!"

Mercedes chuckled again and bumped her shoulder into Rachel's. "You got a deal. After glee today, you and me will train."

"Whatever," Rachel said, sounding as casual as possible as she turned and made her way out the door.

"Be prepared to get yo ass whooped," Rachel heard as she made her way to her next class of the day, laughing and shaking her head as she went.

X

Rachel hummed lightly under her breath, a swing in her step, a stake spinning in her hand, as she leisurely walked through the dark cemetery. Beside her, Mercedes looked thoroughly putout and downright pissed.

At glee club earlier that day, Rachel was given all the leads to sing, which she belted out as though she had been practicing all her life and not like she had just been given them on the spot. The club was blown away. Luckily for Mercedes, they hadn't had a full practice because Kitty, Marley, and Jake were still out sick. But _unfortunately _for Mercedes, her day of torture at the hands of Rachel didn't end there.

During their training session, it became very clear that Mercedes was no match for Rachel. The girl moved with ease and agility that was born from years of experience. To make matters worse, Mercedes had the distinct impression that Rachel had been holding back during training. It was enough to put Mercedes in a horrible mood.

Tina loved Rachel and thought she was a sweetheart. Mike thought she was a hoot. Artie fawned all over her, applauding loudly at each block she prevented from Mercedes and every punch she landed. Between Rachel's impeccable performances during glee and her superior fighting skills, Will basically didn't stop complimenting Rachel the entire time. Sam alone kept quiet, cheering for only Mercedes. But she was pretty sure she caught a few of his impressed looks aimed Rachel's way.

As it turned out, Mercedes wasn't too pleased sharing the spotlight with the new girl.

"Should we do another sweep?" Mercedes rolled her eyes, irritated and wishing she had patrolled alone. Will only agreed to let Mercedes go out, however, if Rachel tagged along.

"I'm kind of beat," Mercedes lied. "Maybe we should just head home."

Rachel huffed. "Mercedes, between the Unholy Trinity and this Sue character, I really think it would be best if—"

Mercedes grounded to a halt and turned on Rachel. "Now I _know_ you're not about to tell me what to do in _my _town," she said, all attitude.

Rachel rolled her eyes dismissively. "Isn't this about protecting people? Innocent lives at stake? That _is _what you said to Mr. Schuster, right?" she stressed pointedly.

Mercedes deflated on the spot, very aware that she said those exact words earlier to get her watcher to allow her to go patrolling. But she had wanted to do it _alone_. To blow off some steam after her crappy day watching Rachel take over her life. As Mercedes looked at Rachel, however, her earlier ire came back in full force.

"Look, Rachel," Rachel immediately picked up on the tension and stopped to turn to where Mercedes stood, "You may be hot shit from wherever the hell it is you came from, but here, in _my _town, you're no one. So maybe it would be best if we split up or something."

Rachel took a moment to let the words sink in before her face exploded into a huge grin. Mercedes' eyebrow shot up, and it only caused Rachel to laugh. "Are you serious right now?" Rachel asked, looking the slayer up and down. Mercedes shrugged casually, but internally she was a little surprised. "Earlier today you were practically begging to be my friend. Complimenting me, talking about slayer bonding and a whole other bunch of stuff." Rachel chuckled again, shaking her head before her expression turned serious. "Grow _up_, Mercedes." Mercedes' face contorted in indignation.

"Grow up?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, Mercedes, grow up. This isn't just about you. Not everything is about you! You sit on your ass and pretend like you're entitled to it just because you're _a _slayer. Not the only slayer, not even _The Slayer_, just _a _slayer." Mercedes gave a squawk of denial. "All around the world thousands of girls can do what you can do. And you know what? They can do it _better_. Because they _work _for it. I bust my ass. I run every morning. I eat right. I study. I studied _you_, and do you know what I found?" Mercedes rolled her eyes as she glanced around the cemetery, acting disinterested. "I found out that the only reason you can fight vampires, is because a few years ago, _The Slayer_ used magicks to change the slayers' line so that every girl that could possibly become a slayer, _would_.

"You act like you're in charge. And maybe if you had a watcher who actually knew what he was doing, you'd be somewhat competent." Mercedes went to cut in, but Rachel continued talking. "You bring your friends out patrolling with you. You almost got them and yourself killed the other night because you think you know it all. _Maybe_ instead of prancing around half-cocked with your pride, you start learning that there are actually things out there that can take you down. That can hurt you and the people you care about!"

"Like what happened to your parents?" Mercedes asked, staring Rachel down. Rachel flinched at the other girl's admission. "Yeah, Rach, because you knew what you were doing? Going and falling in love with a _vampire_. And not just any vampire, oh no. You fell for the biggest, baddest, meanest vampire of them all. And it got your parents killed. So before you go around dishing it out, maybe you better take a look at your own choices, and keep your opinions to yourself and—"

The punch was landed before Mercedes even saw Rachel raise her arm. She stumbled back slightly, her hand to her cheek, and looked up at Rachel with pure hate. "You are _so _gonna wish you never did that."

"Oh, please continue," a voice said a few feet away, getting Mercedes to pause, arms midair, and Rachel to sharply turn around. There, sitting atop of a tombstone looking amused, was Santana, smirking. "Tonight just got _a lot _more interesting."

_San Sebastian, Puerto Rico__  
__1868 _

The hunger she felt was overwhelming. It went deeper than famine. Never, in her whole life, not even during the war when things were so bad, had Santana ever felt this ravenous. Her immediate instinct was to flee. To run as far and as long as she had to until she found what she wanted. To claw at her own skin until she could devour. But a soft hand running up and down her stomach gave her pause.

"We could finish, you know? We could keep touching each other. Or are you too hungry?"

Santana recognized the voice. It sounded slightly different now, however. Almost like she was hearing clearly for the first time. Slowly, Santana blinked until the candlelight of the room made her eyes fight to take in everything.

She knew it was Brittany next to her. Naked. Stroking her stomach with a desire she could smell. But her eyes were taking in another blonde across the room, sitting aloft a bureau. The woman was naked as well. With one leg bent while the other dangled, exposing herself to Santana's newly acute vision. She smirked at Santana, then, in a way that was feral.

Santana could smell the blood on the woman's lips from across the room, could see it stained on her chin. And she knew, with only a flare of her nostrils, that it was her own.

"That is Quinn. We like her, San," Brittany whispered into her ear. Quinn smiled slowly at Brittany's words. Santana turned her head to follow the fingertips running up and down her bare stomach, to the soft, pale arm and defined muscles, and into the bluest eyes Santana had ever known. "We like her a lot."

Santana nodded slowly as she stared at Brittany. Like her senses, her feelings for Brittany had changed as well. This girl wasn't just her friend. Or even just her lover. What she now felt, was something so strong and primitive, that Santana sensed everything inside of her swirl and twist and ache until she needed to act.

"I _really_ wanted to keep touching," Brittany moaned out as Santana started kissing and sucking wherever she could. "We will hunt later. The three of us."

Santana wasn't listening, however. And she no longer cared about Quinn across the room. She could tell that she was aroused watching her and Brittany. Hear her pleasuring herself as she looked on. But the only thing that mattered to Santana was Brittany. She pushed down the painful desire to feed.

"You are beautiful together," Quinn groaned as she took in the show. She gave a shuddering laugh as she crawled onto the bed and over to Brittany and Santana, touching their skin with the tips of her fingers. "And we will be together," she whispered and then hissed, "_forever_."

They touched and tasted and caressed for hours. Sometimes Quinn would watch as Brittany and Santana rutted against one another. Other times, she joined in. Or Brittany would relinquish her new mate in favor of watching Quinn and Santana. It wasn't until Santana sunk her fangs into Brittany's thigh and sucked did Quinn feel it was time to hunt.

They hadn't even bothered with clothes.

The poor old man they had happened upon never even cried out in pain when Santana tore into his neck. His gaze was so firmly fixed on the two blondes kissing, that Quinn couldn't help but laugh loudly as the life was sucked dry from him.

"You will find, youngling," Quinn whispered as she approached Santana's back, her Spanish perfect, "that men are weak. The things that drive them," she continued, glancing over Santana's shoulders to look down at the corpse, "are ultimately their undoing."

Santana's eyes slammed shut as Quinn began kissing her neck, her tongue skating over the healed wound from where Brittany originally bit her. "I want to know everything," Santana murmured in Spanish. Brittany was in front of her then, slipping her hands around her waist to join their lips to taste the man's blood.

Sharp teeth skimmed Santana's ear. "I will show you, love," Quinn whispered, her eyes absorbing Santana and Brittany's kiss. "I will show you _everything_."

_Lima, Ohio__  
__Present Day_

Santana was on the gravestone for as long as it took to get the words out of her mouth. But then, she was promptly on her ass.

"Bitch," Santana mumbled, hands gritting into the wet grass and dirt, Rachel sitting astride her, looking every bit the hunter she was. "This dress is _couture_!" she spit out, just before Rachel landed the first punch.

Mercedes watched on, equal parts terrified as she was amazed. Rachel hadn't even hesitated. She dove at Santana, taking her to the ground, like she had no fear. She was raining punches down on an immobilized Santana with strength and speed Mercedes couldn't even begin to grasp.

Until Rachel wasn't.

Rachel's body flew through the air and crashed down on a tombstone with a sickening crunch, her back taking the brunt of the impact. "What the _fuck_ is your problem?" Santana asked, her gaze on her purple, skin-tight dress as she dusted off her hands. "Have a little respect for fashion."

Mercedes advanced then, challenging with a left/right combination that Santana easily batted away as she rolled her eyes, seemingly bored. As Mercedes tried for an uppercut, Santana grabbed her right hand and held it tightly in her own. With wide, panicked eyes, Mercedes attempted another swing with her left hand, but that too was grabbed by the vampire.

"This is just sad," Santana sneered.

Quickly countering with a head butt, Santana loosened her hold on Mercedes as she reached for her head, grunting at the pain where Mercedes had hit her. This usually would be a perfect place to insert a witty remark, but Mercedes was too afraid. She created some distance between her and the vampire, and only glanced over her shoulder briefly to where Rachel was struggling to regain her footing. "Rachel? Rachel, are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

Groaning in response, Rachel slowly got to her feet. "I'd be more worried about yourself, slayer," Santana scoffed. Mercedes gaze shot to the vampire, her long, sharp teeth bared. "My Britts is _so _going to be pissed you messed with my face."

Mercedes prepared herself for attack, her eyes actually slipping shut. But it never came. She opened her eyes at the sound of grunts, and watched as Rachel fought Santana. Again she was frozen as she stared at them, fighting with vigor and skill that Mercedes had never seen before.

"A little help here, Mercedes!" Rachel grumbled, huffing from exertion. She had just taken two punches to the face, making her neck snap back. She answered back with a blow to the ribs, stomach, and cheek, moving about to avoid getting hit.

Running into the fray, Mercedes managed to land a hit to Santana's face, before the vampire kicked, sending Mercedes flying backwards into the ground. Before Mercedes was even on her feet, Rachel was laying sprawled out beside her. "We need to get out of here," Mercedes panted to Rachel, fear unlike she had ever known making her want to retreat.

"We're not going anywhere," Rachel growled back, slowly trying to regain her footing. But Mercedes' hand on her arm stopped her.

"Seriously, Rach," Mercedes stressed, her eyes on the smirking vampire a few yards away, "we need to regroup."

Rachel took in Mercedes' bloody lip and shaking form and snarled deep in her throat. "_Fine_," she agreed grudgingly, "but we can't just run. I'll attack as you duck behind her. We'll get a few good hits in, and we'll take off."

But when the girls looked up, Santana was slowly starting to back away, still smirking proudly at the pair. "Greattime dancing with you, ladies. I'll be _sure _to catch up with you real soon." She blew an exaggerated kiss at Rachel and Mercedes before strolling off into the dark, misty cemetery.

As Mercedes collapsed back onto the grass bed of someone's final resting place, Rachel sprang to her feet, a growl erupting from deep in her throat. "I can't believe we just let her get away!"

Mercedes' eyes widened. "_Let her_? _Let her _get away?! Are you serious, girl? We're lucky _we _are even getting away!"

Rachel scoffed. "I could've taken her, if I didn't have _you _slowing me down."

"The only things that slowed you down, Rachel, were those tombstones that crazy vamp kept throwing you into."

Rachel spun away from Mercedes' gaze as she sulked.

"Do you have some kind of death wish or something?" Mercedes asked sarcastically. "Seriously, Rach, are you here to go against the Unholy Trinity and get yourself killed in the process? Because that's the way you're acting."

Mercedes stared at Rachel's back and watched the girl hug her arms around her body. She got to her feet just as Rachel's shoulders started to shake, and the sounds of Rachel's whimpers filled the quiet cemetery.

"Rachel?"

Rachel only shook her head in reply, too busy counting the number of tears that fell down her cheeks.

"I've cried _so _much..." she whispered on a breath. "I-I've tried to keep track, I've tried to stop myself, but..."

Mercedes frowned sympathetically and wrapped her arm around the girl. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

X

A short time later, both girls were standing on Mercedes' porch, Mercedes fishing her keys out of her purse.

"This is ridiculous," Rachel muttered, looking ready to run. "You didn't need to bring me here."

Mercedes gave the girl a smile as she rolled her eyes, opening the door. "_You're _the one being ridiculous. I'm not letting you stay at that crappy motel room for the night. Come on in, have some hot chocolate, and crash. My parents seriously won't mind."

Mercedes could suddenly tell by the way Rachel was shifting and eying the doorway that Rachel really had been on her own for the passed year. Had been alone. She probably hadn't been shown any kindness. Maybe she had even forgotten that it could be offered, that she deserved to accept it.

Rachel bit her lip as she cocked her head. "They won't mind?" Mercedes shook her head. "Do they know you're a slayer?" Again, Mercedes shook her head, this time sadly. Rachel eyed the doorway as she continued to bite her lip. "Can I really have hot chocolate?" Mercedes laughed as she ushered Rachel into her house.

X

Both girls sat on Mercedes' bed, a mug of hot chocolate in their hands, silent. Mercedes was dying to ask Rachel every question that floated through her thoughts, but knew she had to wait until Rachel was ready.

"I..." Rachel swallowed thickly as she sat her mug on the bedside table. "I..._suspected_ she was a vampire," she finally got out. Mercedes only nodded, waiting for her to continue. "I knew something was different about her. The fact that she never went outside during the day, of course, was a big clue," Rachel laughed ruefully, tears already forming in her eyes.

"So...I did some research," Rachel continued, avoiding Mercedes' gaze as she whispered her tale and gulped down her tears. "I read about these two vampires. They were...they were evil at one time, and then..." Mercedes frowned as Rachel shook off whatever thoughts she had. "Then they weren't."

"Weren't evil? Vampires?" Mercedes asked with doubt.

Rachel's glazed eyes finally met Mercedes. "It's well documented," Rachel defended. "One was cursed with a soul, the other sought out a trial to earn his. Two _very _vicious vampires were suddenly fighting for the good guys!"

"So you thought Quinn had a soul?" Mercedes said, her eyebrows high with disbelief.

Rachel shook her head as she stared down at her lap. "She wasn't like the other vampires I had faced. She seemed...kind. Genuine. I could tell she was trying to hide what she really was. But I took precautions just in case."

"Like what?" Mercedes asked with attitude. "You use a dental dam or somethin'?"

Rachel jerked her head up to glare at Mercedes. "Like I never invited her into my home!"

"Then how'd she get in there later when she...?" Mercedes slowly let the sentence die, not wanting to bring up Rachel's parents' death again. Ashamed at herself for doing so before.

Rachel took a deep breath and slowly released it. "I didn't trust her at first. So I started to follow her. Every night. And every night was the same: she'd kiss me at the door, not asking to be invited in like vampires when they need to gain access to your house, and go straight home. I would watch her through the window of her apartment, and she'd read every night before turning in. Every night. I never once saw her leave to hunt. Never saw her drink from bags of blood, never even saw her go to a butcher shop to get animal blood.

"But she refused to talk about her past. I would question her whenever I could. And I would just watch her eyes...she...she was _so broken_," Rachel whimpered. Mercedes watched as Rachel hastily wiped away her tears before getting herself back together. "After...after everything that happened to my parents, I started doing further research. I had nothing left," Rachel choked out. "My parents left me with a considerable fortune, so I packed up my stuff and started to unravel who she was and what had happened."

"What did you find out?" Mercedes whispered, hanging on every word.

Rachel ran a hand down her tired face. "I found out about the Unholy Trinity," Rachel chuckled mirthlessly. "Found out who she was and what she was really capable of." Rachel took a deep breath. "And I found out about North Korea."

The air crackled with intensity as Mercedes studied Rachel. "What happened in North Korea, Rachel?"

"She_—they_ had been there. Not long before I met her." Rachel pulled her knees to her chest and stared blankly at the bed. "I went there, to find out if the legend was true. I met with some local townspeople and pieced together as much as I could.

"She killed a young girl there," Rachel uttered, tears swimming in her blank eyes. "The girl was beloved in her clan; they were all witches. She_—_she," Rachel's eyes slid shut and tears spilled out, "what she did to that little gir..." Rachel shook her head as she started rocking back and forth. "The clan, in retaliation, cursed her."

"Gave her a soul?"

Rachel's shoulders began to shake as she whispered out a miserable, "No. No, they didn't know how."

"So what did they do to her?"

Rachel lifted her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know. Whatever they did to her is lost."

"But _why_? Why didn't you ask the clan of witches?" Mercedes asked desperately.

Rachel looked up at Mercedes, and the girl's breath caught at the agony she found in Rachel's dark eyes. "They're all dead. The entire clan was slaughtered."

Mercedes sat back on the bed in defeat. "Brittany and Santana. The Goddess and the Warrior."

"Yeah," Rachel croaked out. "The villagers left alive not in the clan described them well enough, it matched up with my research. All I know was the clan used the Orb of Pyoulah. I studied Asian Magicks and found out what it was used for. It's dark magick; powerful."

"So what do you want with it? And what are you going to do when you get one?"

Rachel flicked away more tears impatiently, her chest heaving trying to steady her breathing. "Whatever they were trying to do to her, it may not have worked. Or...or maybe it did, but it wore off. She...she wasn't _evil _with me...or...or..."

"Or what?" Mercedes asked, suddenly impatient. She couldn't understand why Rachel was deluding herself into thinking Quinn was good, that there was any redeemable nature inside of the soulless vampire.

Rachel glanced up, her gaze pleading. "I never saw Brittany or Santana, _ever_, in the months I was with Quinn. I think whatever happened in North Korea broke them up. Something happened to her that made her leave them. Maybe she didn't have a soul, but she wasn't bad! She wasn't bad with me. I didn't see either Brittany or Santana until that night my parents died. And when I went to her house after she never showed, it was only then that I saw Brittany. She was...she was feeding with her. On...on a little_—_" Rachel's voiced cracked as tears welled once again.

"So...what? You think Brittany _peer pressured_ her into killing an innocent girl?"

"I don't know, okay, Mercedes! I don't know! All I _do _know, was that she wasn't evil when she was with me. She loved me, I _know _she did. Brittany shows up and suddenly she's killing again? It's too much of a coincidence! Maybe they un-cursed her or something! Maybe...maybe that did something to her to make her turn!"

Mercedes was quiet as she watched Rachel work herself up. "So you want the orb to curse her again...so you can, what? Get your girlfriend back?"

Rachel flew off the bed and reared on Mercedes with a complete look of disgust on her face. "Do you honestly think I could forget? Forget what happened to my parents?! I want to curse her so I can make her pay! So that I can destroy the Unholy Trinity once and for all!"

"Then why are you here, Rachel? And why are _they _here? You brought this trouble to _my _town!"

Rachel raked her fingers through her hair as she turned her back on Mercedes. "I...I think...I think they're here because I'm here."

"What?!"

Rachel spun back around and looked at Mercedes imploringly. "I'm so sorry, Mercedes, I really am. I got sloppy...I..." She took a deep breath, like she was preparing herself. "I had to ask a lot of the..._wrong _types of people. The underworld and the like. I had to ask too many people. I didn't cover my tracks well, too focused on getting my intel and moving on to pursue the next lead. I had all but given up hope. But then...I found out the biggest piece of the puzzle."

"And what was that?"

Rachel's jaw tensed as she started intently at Mercedes. "How to make the orb work."

Mercedes frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rachel bit her lip guiltily. "I had...I had tried every spell I could get my hands on that involved the Orb of Pyoulah," Rachel whispered, her eyes locked with Mercedes. "I didn't even fully know what the orb did, and I didn't even understand the language I was using for each spell or what theycould do. But I had to try. Slowly, through the help of some warlocks and other witches, I was able to weed out which spells I _wasn't _looking for. Until I found the right one."

Mercedes' gaze followed Rachel as she begun to pace in earnest, deep in her thoughts and memories.

"I must have tried the spell dozens of times, bought that damn orb over and over...but nothing happened. The orb didn't glow like it was supposed to. I was _told _that the orb would glow when the spell was cast. But nothing."

"So it didn't work?"

Rachel shook her head and then paused, turning to look at Mercedes, _through _Mercedes. "And then I found out why." The air was thick with tension, and Mercedes felt as though something very important was about to be revealed. "I needed a witch. But not just any witch. I needed someone that was in the same bloodline that had created the curse. An Asian witch. And the only living descendant of the tribe that _actually _practices magicks is here. Right in Lima."

Mercedes stared up at her feeling sick. "You mean...either..."

Rachel nodded. "Mike or Tina, Mercedes. And my money? It's on the one with more power."

Mercedes tried to swallow around the dryness in her throat. "But..."

"He has to do it, Mercedes. It's the only way. They're too strong to go up against. We need to curse her, and then take out Brittany and Santana."

Glancing down at her bed, Mercedes tried to absorb everything she had learned, everything she had been told. Slowly, she brought her eyes up to Rachel's. "We'll do it. We'll help."

Rachel's eyes snapped closed as she felt her emotions get the best of her once again. "_Thank you_," she whispered, relief and peace washing over her.

She would finally get her vengeance.

X

Santana was all smiles as she leisurely strolled down Main Street, not a care in the world. She knew that her baby would be waking up soon, and when Santana would get back to their home, Brittany would be waiting for her, naked and ready for Santana.

A subtle breeze rustled the trees, and with it, brought a sent that made Santana stop short. Without moving her head, Santana's eyes flicked left and right, her nostrils flaring. With her hands still stuffed in her pockets, she faintly turned to glance at the building to her right. "Is that you?" she inquired softly.

No reply came.

Santana sniffled and clenched her jaw against the sudden onslaught of emotions and donned a mask of indifference. "You can come out, you know; I know you're there." Again, no answer came. Slowly, she began to walk again. This time, her stride was ridgid. She fought to stay in control of the tears so close to the surface.

"We've been looking for you, searching," Santana continued, her voice so low, if there had been any passersby, they wouldn't have heard her even if they had gotten within a inch. But Santana knew that the woman walking and leaping from building to building in an effort to follow Santana had heard just fine. "Would you _please _just come down here?! _Talk _to me?!"

Nothing.

The tears were getting harder for Santana to fight off. "Can I at least tell Britt? Can I tell her you're really here? We thought you were...we just...it's been _so _long, Q. So long. We're _lost_ without you and..."

The tears came. They splashed down on the pavement and surprised Santana. "Can you _please_ come see us?" Santana stopped walking, too caught up in her grief. "We miss you, Q," she whimpered. "It's not the same and we miss you, _I miss_ _you_! We don't care that you're different. We don't _care_, do you hear me?! We just want our family back!"

On the rooftop, Quinn watched as Santana collapsed onto the street, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Tears swam in Quinn's hazel eyes as she watched on. She had no idea how Santana or Brittany had found her. She assumed she could thank Brittany's visions. But Rachel, Rachel had been the real surprise. How her lover had found her was a complete mystery. An unpleasant mystery.

She was reunited with her family once again. They had been apart for so long and seeing Santana broken on the street made everything inside Quinn scream with pain. Longing. But she couldn't stand for them to see her like this. She was broken, too. Ashamed.

"I just can't."

Santana gasped, her tears and shudders immediately ebbing at the voice that seemed to float on the wind. It gave Santana strength, however, and she got to her feet and felt Quinn's energy flow through her.

"The witch is in this town," Santana said, her head held high. "We're going to do what we have to do to get you back to us, Quinn. You're not alone. You've been alone long enough. We all have. We're going to change this, _fix _this."

Quinn took a deep breath and reveled in the scent of Santana and the scent of Brittany that clung to her as though they were one. She had missed them too.

"I can't get you involved. Sue's here."

Santana shook her head ferociously. "She doesn't scare us, Quinn. Never has."

"The slayer is here and_—_"

"We're not scared of her either," Santana answered defiantly. "Nothing scares us."

"She has a group of people that could hurt you and_—_"

"Do you really think they're any match for _us_?" Santana scoffed, looking up to the rooftop where she thought Quinn was, wishing she could actually catch a glimpse of her. "We've faced _scores _of slayers, Q, and we've left them beaten and bloody and panting for their last breath."

"This one is different and you know it," Quinn hummed in reply. "You've felt the power surrounding her."

Santana shrugged, tears starting anew as she realized she was _actually _talking to Quinn. "We're even more powerful!"

Quinn chuckled softly as she shook her head at Santana's cocky nature. "Is that so, love?"

"I just fought her in the cemetery."

Quinn hummed again. "She wasn't alone." She watched as Santana's face lit up.

"I'm not too worried about that," she chuckled darkly.

"Eager, are we?"

"Let's just say..." Santana's face twisted as her fangs slid down passed her full lips, "I'm _more _than a little excited to sink my teeth into _that_."

Quinn's head fell back as she laughed, feeling once again like she was burden free, and marveled that it could happen twice in a matter of nights after being alone and hopeless for so long. "Me too, love. Me too."

Santana's face erupted gleefully. "We're going to be a family again. Right, Q? We'll get the witch and make you okay again and be a family? This is going down soon. Please, just _find _us!"

Quinn allowed herself to submerge in the vision that was Santana for a long moment before she began backing away, down the slope of the roof, away from Santana. She couldn't hope. It had been so long since she could dare to let herself envision her family together once more. They were all in Lima, and even though the answers seemed to be here, she couldn't let herself hope.

So, without a word, Quinn disappeared into the shadows. They may have been there to help Quinn, but Quinn knew she couldn't get them involved. It was too dangerous. It was bad enough that Rachel had found her, but Sue?

Quinn needed to protect her blood. Her forevers.

She would find comfort in the fact that they weren't destitute like Quinn. Only she should bear the burden. The loneliness. After all Quinn had done...

It was Quinn's turn to cry as Rachel's face swam behind her eyelids. She had never meant to be this way. Never meant for any of it to happen. She would find peace in Lima, one way or another. And she would make sure, come hell or high water, that her family was safe. Her loves. Her forevers.

Her Unholy Trinity.


	4. Chapter 4

_Warnings: Major character death and violence._

**Immunda Crux Crucis**

_Lima, Ohio  
Present Day_

Will looked none too pleased as Mercedes and Rachel walked into the choir room later that night, Mercedes' friends in toe. The glee club instructor and Emma Pillsbury had been together strategizing in the choir room when his slayer had called him, asking to meet at the school. Mercedes hadn't said much, just that she had spoken with Rachel and they were picking up the rest of the kids before heading over to McKinley to discuss everything.

He didn't like the idea of any of his young students traveling at night considering the current state of affairs, but he had to trust in them, and they really needed everything out on the table. If Rachel knew things, she had to share. They had to know what they were up against.

Soon, the two adults and six students were sitting around in a circle looking grave. The only sounds were coming from Will's office, where every once in awhile, a loud pounding noise occurred. Eventually, Rachel broke the silence. "I'm sorry," she asked, looking around at the group in confusion, "but what the hell is that coming from your office?!"

The kids didn't even bother glancing up, too deep in their own thoughts. Will cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "Werewolf. A student here was bitten, and three times a month around the lunar cycle, I lock him up in my office to keep himself and everyone else safe. I apologize for the noise, he's not usually this loud."

Rachel's eyebrows rose dramatically, but soon, she was chuckling softly. "Blaine Anderson?" she asked, thinking of his weird smell and excess hair.

All eyes were suddenly on her in surprise. "Yes," was all that Will said, not in the mood to ask how she guessed. "Rachel, please tell us what you know and what needs to be done."

By the time Rachel recounted her entire story, two hours had passed and everyone's unease had grown.

"So…" Mike Chang finally spoke. Just like the other kids, he had remained quiet as Rachel had talked, and the full impact of what he had to do started to weigh upon him. "I have to curse the Chief? Use this spell, or whatever, to cast the curse my…distant relatives put on her?"

Rachel gave Mike a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about this. I've tried for the better part of this year to find another way, but this seemed to have worked before. I'm open to suggestions, but if my research has taught me anything, staying away from the Unholy Trinity is the smartest course of action. And using magicks would allow us to fight from a distance, so to speak."

"So you say," Sam said, glancing up to look at the girl from across the circle. Mercedes squeezed his hand in warning, but Sam plowed on. "But you don't actually _know _if the curse worked the first time. How do you know that the Chief wasn't just playing you? And…hello…they ended up slaughtering an entire clan in retribution! Who's to say they won't want a little payback if this actually works?!"

"Sam—" Mercedes started, quick to try and appease him. But Artie cut her off.

"No, Mercedes, Sam has a point. How _do _you know what happened in North Korea won't happen here? And how do you know it _will_ actually work?"

Once again, Rachel found all eyes on her. She frowned deeply and took a breath. "Because, Sam, I _know _that she was different when she was with me. She had _thousands _of chances to murder me as well, and it didn't happen. It wasn't until Brittany showed up did she…" Rachel motioned with her hand to finish her sentence, indicating that the things she had recounted to Mercedes were too much to repeat yet again.

"But…" Tina whispered, finally looking up from her lap, "how would they have reversed the spell?"

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, confused.

"You said the Chief was different with you until Brittany showed up. That the curse was intact. Well, how did Brittany reverse it? Wouldn't she _also _need someone from the clan—a descendant—to reverse it?"

"It does stand to reason that if you needed someone from the clan to cast the spell, you'd also need a clan member to reverse it," Emma reasoned.

Rachel scrubbed at her face with her hands and blew out a long breath. "I don't know, okay. I. Don't. Know. They're here. And they want a witch too, probably you, Mike. And unless we do something, they're most likely going to kill all of us."

The room fell quiet, but something needled at Mike. "Wait a second, why _do _they want me? Like, if the Chief was cursed, and then they broke it, why would they want me?"

"Probably to make sure you wouldn't curse her again," Will said softly, glancing up to impart the seriousness of the situation to his young student. "Rachel said that she wasn't exactly stealthy in her inquiries. They probably caught wind of what she was up to—trying to curse the Chief again—and it brought them here. They want to stop us from going ahead with the spell. Then, they'll make sure it can never, ever be cast."

"By killing me," Mike stated hesitantly.

"Yes. That's my best guess."

"Then I have to do it," Mike said firmly.

"No way, man!"

"Out of the question!"

"I won't let you do this, Mike," Tina pleaded. Mike ignored Artie's and Sam's outbursts and turned to look at his girlfriend.

"Tina, either way we're all in danger. At least if I try and cast the spell, we have a chance," he implored.

Tears pooled in Tina's eyes as she stared at her boyfriend. "I can't lose you."

"You won't," he stressed softly with a placating smile.

"That's right, Tina," Will spoke up, "we won't. We'll do everything in our power to keep him safe while he casts the spell."

"We can keep him at my place," Emma said. "I have dozens of protection spells guarding the apartment, and we'll come up with a plan to get to Brittany and Santana."

Will looked over at Rachel grimly. "Have an idea how to stop them?"

Rachel's head fell back in exhaustion. "It's dangerous. We'd have to separate them; attack one without the other there. Killing Brittany first would be…it would set Santana off in a way I don't even want to comprehend. But Brittany…she's a vampire/slayer hybrid who has visions! Either way she's going to be a tough kill. She may see it coming. My gut is telling me that we'd have to take out Santana first, though. Weaken Brittany. She may be strong and get visions, but emotionally…"

"She's insane," Emma filled in, recalling her research and the knowledge she had learned from her own ancestors. "But, surprisingly she's not the muscle," Emma went on. "Usually, she stands back while the Chief and Warrior do the killing. If she's so strong, why doesn't she do more of the destruction?"

Rachel sighed and shook her head. "I don't know. The fact that Santana just let Mercedes and I get away tonight scares me beyond belief. They're up to something. And the sooner we strike first, the better."

"Yeah," Mercedes grunted, "I _really _don't want to see what they're capable of together."

Will turned to the woman beside him. "Any idea when the orb will arrive?"

Emma's shoulders rose and fell feebly. "Maybe in the next few days."

"Okay," Will said, getting to his feet to brace his hands on the back of his chair. "Then we all lay low. No more patrolling or leaving once dark hits. We train after school and get right home. We _have _to come up with some ideas on how we'll take out Santana and Brittany once Mike curses the Chief again."

"Like Holy Water in Super Soakers," Artie grinned, turning to Sam. "I always wanted to try that."

Will allowed a smile. "We'll do more research to find out whatever we can on the Unholy Trinity. Hit the books. Come up with some ideas. We can do this!"

As the rest of the group starting talking at once amongst each other, Rachel stayed quiet. She wasn't sure that they could pull it off, but she knew she would do whatever it would take to see her plan through. Even die trying.

_Outskirts of Santiago, Cuba  
June 30, 1898_

A dozen men gathered around the sweltering tent as they examined their maps, shaking from fear but resolved in their fate. Around the barren field, other tents were erected and held soldiers, all ready for the following day's events with trepidation and determination.

"What we need to do, see, is get out of here for a 'mo. Take in some drink and some women."

Beside the man who spoke, Charles, another man shook his head solemnly. "Best we stay here in our camps. We don't want no trouble," Henry said in a slow drawl.

Both men glanced over at the soldiers around the table talking strategy, letting their quiet chatter fill their silence. "Seeing as a big fight's about to start tomorrow, I best think now's the time to get in a little trouble. While we still can," Charles nodded gravely.

Henry, older and wiser than Charles, had fought in the Indian Wars not even a decade before. He once shared Charles' attitude, to seize life while one still could. He had heard stories while in Fort Concho, other soldiers warning him away from venturing off at night, but didn't heed their warnings.

Henry and two others in his company, had gone off in search of a brothel to get them through the night and war. Only Henry had come back, wide-eyed and stuttering with fear, telling tales of vicious animals with faces like humans.

Just as Henry hadn't listened nearly a decade before, neither would Charles listen now. He and four other men in his company sneaked away for Santiago, hoping to make their last night with air in their lungs count. They made it to the Santiago Harbor, and for once, the seas were quiet. For the moment.

"A little early for the battle, aren't you, boys?" Quinn asked, smiling at the five soldiers. Beside her, snuggled against Santana, Brittany waved happily.

The five men were confused, but rather elated, to stumble upon someone who spoke English, and, of course, three beautiful women. "We's be looking for a little comfort before the battle, ma'am," Charles said, removing his hat, observing them. These women looked nothing like the comfort women Charles had ever seen before. Their dress was of wealth, their speech affluent, and their appearance was most pleasing.

Santana pushed off the dock and sauntered closer to the men, her teeth gleaming bright white in the moonlight. "I sure hope you plan on killing those Spaniards, boys," she said, smirking seductively, getting the men to smile back. "I owe them for what they've done in my past."

"We hope so too, ma'am."

"Whatever comfort we could offer you all would be absolutely divine," Quinn said, batting her lashes as she stroked Brittany's hair. "Seeing how _brave _you boys are for fightin'."

"Let's go see if we can't find some place to give your company a little somethin' for all that you do," Santana said, walking towards the eager men and taking two by the hand and heading to the nearest alleyway. They could hardly take their eyes off of Santana's ample cleavage. Her elaborate white dress dipped so lowly, it looked as though her breasts were fighting for escape.

Back by the docks, Brittany enthusiastically hopped up and made her way to a nervous-looking soldier. He appeared to be the youngest of the five, and Brittany didn't hesitate to take his hand with a smile. "We're going to have _so _much fun!" The man gulped, and was led off to another alleyway with a babbling Brittany as his guide.

Quinn smirked wolfishly at the two remaining men, Charles being one of them. "You boys went awfully far away from camp for a little comfort," she said, leaning back against the dock casually.

The men eyed Quinn's pale chest as they shifted where they stood. "Yes, ma'am."

"You reckon it dark enough here to get on with it?" she asked, one blonde eyebrow rising sensually as she gazed at them.

The two men glanced around the dark harbor, slightly anxious about it being so open. "Maybe we could find somewhere a little more private, ma'am?" Charles asked nervously.

Quinn gave them another smile as she traced her long finger down her pale neck, and let it dip into her cleavage. "But I'm so comfortable here. Surely you Buffalo Soldiers aren't afraid? So brave you are. Fighting in battles that don't concern you in the least."

Hypnotized by Quinn's ministrations, neither man thought twice about moving. Too busy thanking their lucky stars to have found such a vision.

In the first alleyway, Santana took in her prey, eying them hungrily as they stood against the brick wall. She made quite a show of dragging her hand up her leg to reveal her bare thigh, garnering their attention. Faster than either man saw coming, Santana's arm shot out and took the first man's mouth and pulled down, unhinging his jaw with a deafening crack.

He stood, swaying, as Santana stared on, pleased with the effect. The other man could only gape in wonderment, too fearful to even fully grasp what had just taken place. She shoved him hard, getting his head to smack against the brick, and reached inside his mouth with her bloody hand. She smiled as she held his tongue, tugging with little effort and paying no mind to the gargling and sputtering, until she pulled her arm away, half the man's tongue with her.

"So you two won't make so much noise," Santana hissed at them with a smile.

Santana watched as the first man slid down the wall, weeping quietly in pain around his broken jaw, while the second man began to choke on his own blood. "I _do _love a good war," she grinned. Both men were still conscious, but only of their agony. She set to work, then, knocking away the second man's hands that were pawing blindly at his mouth. She quickly had his hands tied and gripped one end of the rope as she scurried her way up the brick wall, her nails clawing. Santana latched the end of the rope to the roof of the building, and heaved until the man was suspended, blood pouring down his chin and the front of his chest as he sputtered.

She slid back down the wall and looked up at the thrashing man, his blood sloshing and bubbling as he kicked wildly. "_Shh shh shhh, _don't struggle," Santana cooed. "It will be so much more fun if you save your energy."

Her eyes darted towards the first man. He was blinking lightly, barely conscious. With a sneer, Santana took him by the neck and hoisted him up in the air. "_Ah ah ahhh,_ stay awake; this is when the fun begins," she taunted. The man started to tear up, mumbling incoherently, and Santana rolled her eyes. Not far away, the sounds of a man screaming pierced the air, and Santana smiled as she turned her head. "My Brit Brit is playing."

Brittany's victim was lying on the ground, shirtless, and bleeding from the small cuts she had caused with the second rusty nail she had found; the first nail was driven into his shoulder, blood pooling around the area. "So pretty," she whispered, watching how each time she dragged the orange-brown nail against his dark skin, bright red would erupt from within. "We could do this for _hours_," she breathed in awe. The man fought against his binds, but, try as he might, the rope tied tightly around his hands wouldn't loosen, securely fastened to a metal pike that stuck out of the ground.

"I saw that you would be here. Saw it _months _ago," Brittany continued, dragging the nail along the man's face. His teeth clamped down in pain, but when Brittany drove the nail into his face deeper, leaving just the tip out of the skin, the man's guttural screams echoed for miles. "I should get more nails!" she cheered, hopping up to start her mission.

Quinn's sharp eyes watched as Brittany exited her alleyway cheerily. She smiled lovingly at the girl, already knowing where she was headed, hearing the whole exchange that had taken place. Her nostrils flared as she took in the smell of blood. It was strong. Three distinct scents that made Quinn's mouth water. The two men before her could only cower in fright, listening hard to the sounds of screaming in the distance.

She could hear all the hearts racing. Creating a beautiful symphony that caused her eyes to slip closed and her smile to spread. When the sound of a new heart caught her attention, Quinn's eyes snapped open and sought out the intruder. A little old woman was hobbling along, her face set. Quinn hissed when she saw the cross in her hand, how she gripped it tightly.

"You don't belong here. _Go_!" the woman shouted in Spanish, more than a hundred feet away.

Quinn smirked evilly, loving all the attention. "This is not your concern, old woman, leave now or suffer the consequences," Quinn responded, still relaxed on the dock

The soldiers were even more frightened now. They didn't understand Spanish, and they could only faintly here the sounds of people calling out in pain—unsure whether or not it was the men in their company—but the old woman's presence was alarming, and the way Quinn seemed so unconcerned worried them greatly.

"I think it's best if we just go now, ma'am," Charles spoke, shaking slightly. Everything within him said to flee. His comrade nodded eagerly.

The old woman continued to walk closer, holding her cross out before her like a shield. "Be gone, beast, _leave_! I know what you are and how to kill you!"

Quinn's held fell back as she laughed loudly. The sharp cry of one of Santana's victims permeated the air, making Quinn moan. "You are not long for this world, old woman. I suggest you go back to your hole before we kill you."

Slowly, Charles and the other man started to inch away, hoping Quinn was too distracted by the old woman to notice them. But at the woman's surprised shriek, both men froze where they stood and gawked. There, standing behind the old woman, was Brittany. And sticking out of the old woman's neck was a large, rusted nail.

Charles whipped his head around to stare at Quinn, his dark eyes wide and terrified. "Where do you think you're going?" she hissed menacingly, her face no longer a picture of beauty. Her long, pointed teeth were sliding over her pink lips, and her eyes were so full of hatred that Charles gasped.

Suddenly, Quinn sprang from the dock, growling violently, and landed on top of the other man. She wasted no time slashing at his skin with her nails, flaying his flesh as he shrieked out in suffering.

Charles stumbled away, retching as the smell of the blood and carnage he had seen caught up with him. He passed an alleyway, only to find the youngest man in his company reaching out to him from where he lay on the ground. "Please…_help me_," the man whimpered, his naked body punctured with dozens upon dozens of nails, head to toe. Charles shook his head as he fought onrushing unconsciousness, so horrified with the turn of events that he couldn't focus. With all of his might, he flung the man over his shoulder and staggered on.

His mistake was passing by the other alleyway. His dark eyes widened at the vision of the two soldiers dangling from the roof, suspended helplessly. The first man's jaw was completely removed, and his eyes were scooped clean out of his skull. The second man was covered in blood, every one of his organs exposed, his empty mouth twisted wide to show its vacancy.

"I don't know," Santana had said nonchalantly, hand on her hip as she looked up at the two men. "It lacks poetry."

Charles was rooted on the spot, unaware that the man over his shoulder was now dead. "Aww, no, Santana," Brittany cooed, suddenly standing behind Charles. "I think it looks neat! Really pretty."

Santana smiled at her lover. "Thank you, baby. Yours looks perfect," Santana said, indicating the man covered in nails. Brittany beamed back.

"We should display _all _of them," she said joyfully, clapping as she jumped up and down. "Her too!" Brittany walked away from the mouth of the alley to collect the old woman, and dragged her back, bypassing the still-stunned Charles.

"We're going to need more rope," Santana mentioned, glancing around the alley.

"Here's some," Quinn said, swiftly appearing right next to Charles. The man jumped, the soldier dislodging from his shoulders and falling to the ground with a thump. Quinn tossed the rope to Santana with a smile. "Looks good, S."

"Thank you, Quinn," Santana smiled back shyly. "I'm really trying to prove myself."

Brittany was immediately at Santana's side, linking their fingers. "You don't have to prove yourself to her, San," Brittany smiled lovingly.

Quinn chuckled deeply. "Yes she does, B."

Santana rolled her eyes to show her dismay, almost as though she were a petulant child. "How long do you think it will take to prove myself?" Santana asked Quinn gloomily.

Quinn only shrugged. "As long as it takes."

"Then I guess we should get on with it," Santana said, already tying up the dying old woman. As Charles went to leave, he bumped into Quinn. She didn't even flinch, her gaze too fixed on the show Santana was putting on.

"You'll be permitted to leave momentarily," Quinn mumbled, smiling as she watched Santana torture the old woman further. "Once we're through."

An hour later, Charles was sobbing as he sprinted back towards his camp. He made quite an entrance when he reached the main tent, and raved to anyone who would listen about the horrors he had faced.

Henry took the younger solider by the neck and stared intently into his dark eyes. "That's whys we never run off 'round war time: too many things out there like killin'. Best stay here where it's safe."

Charles somehow made it through the battle the next day. Many years later, he wished he hadn't. He told his family the war had been rough, and that was why he was so different. It wasn't until much later did he find out the truth about those three beautiful women he had met. What they were. He shared his experiences, just like others before him had. Because, it seemed, that the Unholy Trinity enjoyed letting one victim go free to tell the tale. He vowed to train younger generations, to teach them to kill vampires. He learned there were other things out there that went bump in the night. He fought them as well. But never again, no matter how far and wide he traveled, did Charles again meet the Unholy Trinity.

He followed their blood trail. Examined victims. Saw the patterns and documented them thoroughly. There was never a shortage of victims. And Charles died fighting vampires like the ones he had met that fateful night.

_Like _the ones he had met. But none of the horrors he went on to face ever came close to the Unholy Trinity.

_Lima, Ohio  
Present Day_

As luck would have it, the orb was delivered to the Magic Box the very next day. This was, most definitely, bad luck, Rachel stressed. They had no plan. No idea if Mike could do the spell. No clue how they were going to kill Santana and Brittany if and when the spell was cast. And no way of knowing if the Unholy Trinity was hot on their heels.

Emma was the only one who found the upside: there was a full moon that night, thusly giving them a little magical advantage. They knew they _had _to do the spell as soon as possible; if they waited, they may never get another chance.

None of them had slept, however. They had spent the night before pouring over books researching the Unholy Trinity. The spell. Coming up with different ways to hold off the three legendary vampires. Ways to stay alive.

Rachel stood in the parking lot, soaking up the sun's rays. She knew, without a doubt, it would be the last time she'd ever got to do it; she was taking advantage. So distracted by her moment of peace, she didn't hear Blaine approaching.

"Hey, Rach," the boy smiled, digging his hands into the pockets of his Capri pants. She smiled back, albeit, less enthusiastically, and returned to her basking. Blaine fumbled to think of something to say. "I like your necklace," he said suddenly, hoping complimenting her would help loosen her up.

He hadn't really had a chance up until now to speak to Rachel. Sure, they shared a class or two and had glee together, but she wasn't exactly approachable.

"Thanks," she mumbled back, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb over the green gem of her necklace.

"I couldn't help but notice this morning you were with Mr. Schue, Mercedes, and all of them."

Rachel nodded. "Yeah…just doing some research."

Blaine smiled. "I know all about them, Rachel. Earlier this year Mercedes found me naked out in the woods."

Rachel's eyebrow shot up as she looked at him incredulously.

Blaine chuckled. "Because I was all werewolf-ed out from the night before," Blaine said sheepishly then shrugged. "I didn't know I was a werewolf then. So, three times a month, I would turn and wake up in the woods." Blaine winced. "Usually with a dead rabbit or something next to me."

Rachel's mouth dropped open in horror. "You'd kill _bunnies_?!"

Blaine shrugged helplessly as he blushed. "I didn't _mean _to kill bunnies. My werewolf did. Kurt, my boyfriend, says it's basically the same as having a burger or something to make me feel better."

Rachel continued to look put-off. "I'm _vegan_."

"Yeah, it didn't really help me either," Blaine said with a sympathetic smile. Rachel seemed as though she wanted to be alone, but he really thought it was best if he tried to talk to her. He had found out about Rachel's ex (a vampire, sure, but also a _woman_) and wanted to see if she needed to talk to someone. Open up. "I was speaking with Artie earlier. He said you're a slayer too?" Rachel only nodded, and Blaine smiled. "That's amazing. I think it's really great that you go out and risk your life and help people. For the greater good."

At Rachel's dubious expression, Blaine stopped talking and chuckled with embarrassment. Rachel took a deep breath and released it slowly. She wasn't used to dealing with teenaged boys, so she tried to practice some patience. "Was there something I could do for you, Blaine?" she asked as politely as possible.

He offered another sympathetic smile. "I was just wondering if, maybe, you'd be interested in doing something sometime with Kurt and me. He's a freshman at Ohio State; I think you'd like him. He was in glee club when he went here." Blaine said. "We could perhaps have a rom-com marathon, mani-pedis, karaoke maybe?" he said, nudging her shoulder with a smile. "You're new here and I thought you might like hanging out with a few…_like-minded _people," he said, flashing her a knowing smile.

Taking another deep breath, Rachel looked up at the boy. "Honestly, Blaine, I'm not even sure if I'll be alive in a few days," she said with a regretful chuckle. "We're about to face something really…bad. And…"

"Hey, yeah, I get it," Blaine quickly jumped in. "But _when_ you get through it," he said confidently with a boyish grin, "it would be really nice to get to know you. I won't tell Kurt about you being a slayer if you don't want me to, but he knows I'm a wolf. He's my boyfriend, after all," he laughed. "He would get slightly suspicious if I disappeared on him three nights every month.

Rachel gave him an easy smile and nodded. "Yeah, okay," she agreed.

"Cool." Blaine opened his arms hopefully, and they both chuckled when Rachel stepped in to accept the offered hug. "Be safe, Rachel."

Rachel pulled away and gave the boy another smile. "You too, Blaine."

"I'll see you later tonight in the choir room? Before you guys go out?"

"We're not having glee?"

Blaine shook his head. "Too many people still out with that flu bug."

"Okay, see you later," she waved, looking forward to her alone time once again. Blaine gave a wave and was off, allowing Rachel to turn her attention back to the sun. She was positive she'd never meet Kurt or hang out with Blaine. It was why she was enjoying what little time she had left of the daylight.

X

Across town, in the woods, in a cave that was far too small for her liking, Sue stood looking out of the mouth towards the fading light. She was in her "General Pose" with her arms behind her back and her legs shoulder-width apart, waiting until Joe got back with his intelligence.

She didn't have long to wait. She could see him the distance, running at full speed, a blanket draped over his slightly smoking body. When he was inside, under the cover of the cave and out of the direct sunlight, Joe tossed his smoldering blanket aside.

"What did you find out?" she asked, still looking in the distance.

"They're moving tonight. The orb arrived on schedule."

Sue nodded as she thought that over. "And their plans?"

Joe's bare chest shone whiter the lower the sun sunk. "Just like we thought."

Sue chuckled. "Predictable Quinn." Joe waited, glancing over his shoulder to see twenty-some odd vampires resting deeper in the cave. Their army. "We let them go along with their plan. Let them think they succeeded. Then," Sue growled, her face changing into its vampire form, "we make our move."

"Is our army big enough?" Joe asked, thinking of their recent losses of Brody and Dave.

Sue considered that. "We have Puck's brother now and that girl he was conoodling with…that may be enough…but a few more couldn't hurt."

Joe turned to see the two young vampires, Jake and Marley, they had turned a few days before. Jake was currently sparring with Puck as Marley watched on. "I'll take a small team out before we go after the Unholy Trinity," Joe said.

Sue nodded, her face back to looking human, and smirked. "Bring me something back? Something young?"

Joe bowed his head. "Of course, General." He went further into the cave to round up his team while Sue looked out into the fading light.

"Long live the General," she chuckled to herself.

X

Will shut the choir room door, his back to the kids, and took a breath. He released the knob and stared down at his tie, fumbling a little with it, and remembered the glee club giving it to him right after they took Sectionals. He smiled at the huge yellow treble clef in the middle against a backdrop of deep, royal blue. It was beyond tacky. And he loved it.

He turned to face the room, mustering up the best smile he could, but Emma noticed it didn't make his eyes crinkle; he was faking it for the kids.

"Okay, guys," he said as he clapped his hands together, as though it was just a regular day in glee, "here's the plan."

"Mr. Schue?" Artie piped in, his hand raised. "Shouldn't we wait for Rachel?"

Will frowned as he glanced around the room. "Does anyone know where she is?" Everyone shrugged.

"She's in the parking lot, Mr. Schue," Blaine said, already inside Will's office, unbuttoning his plaid shirt. He really needed to hurry: it was just about dark outside and he could already feel his body transitioning.

Will nodded as his office door closed. "I'll go get her," Mercedes volunteered, already out of her seat. She was happy to get away from the room, from all the sets of eyes focused on her when it mattered most. All Mercedes had ever wanted was to be special. She wanted to shine. To be important. And now that she was, she realized she wasn't ready.

Only a week before, Mercedes had thought she had had what it takes. Slaying vampires had been easy. Fun. But now that the threat was very real, she found that she no longer wanted all the pressure on her shoulders. Too much was riding on her. It was why she was taking the long way out of the school; she needed a moment alone.

Saying goodbye to her parents earlier had been the hardest thing she had ever done. They had no idea she was the slayer. Will told her she needed to lie to protect them. They had been too flippant as she gave them a hug and a kiss goodbye. Her father was busy reading the paper, her mother cleaning up after breakfast. Mercedes wanted to scream at them. Yell in their faces. Make them understand that it could be the last time they ever saw their baby girl alive.

She stared at them long and hard in the door frame. Soaking up the image so that she could recall it later, when she needed it the most. Just like she captured a mental picture of Sam laughing in the choir room. Joking around with Artie as though what they were about to face wasn't life or death.

Research had never been Mercedes' thing. Usually, while everyone was pouring over books, Mercedes would be in the corner sharpening stakes or checking out her Twitter. But the previous evening, Will needed all hands on deck. So Mercedes read the stories. Researched the history of the Unholy Trinity. Looked at the pictures depicting some of the legendary vamps' more brutal kills.

It had all seemed so very real in that moment. Just like it had been in the cemetery when she was fighting Santana. She had never come up against a vampire so strong and skilled. Never faced anything that had slowed her down.

As she gradually walked through the deserted halls of McKinley stepping over the Titans' seal declaring "Formatia trans sicere educatorum," Mercedes couldn't help but let the tears well in her dark eyes. She was too young! She hadn't been anywhere or seen anything. She was too young to die!

That's what it was all about to Mercedes. She didn't want to die. She couldn't fathom anything worse than her young life being snuffed out before its prime.

Luckily, all existential thoughts were wiped clean as she opened the doors to the school's parking lot. There, standing feet apart, where Rachel and Santana. She only froze a moment. But Rachel's punch to the vamp's face set her body in motion.

By the time Mercedes got there, Santana was already backing away, hands raised in surrender. Her lip was cut and bleeding, and it stretched over her smirk. "So _feisty_," Santana sneered at Rachel, her vamp face looking menacing, yet enthralling.

Mercedes immediately wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist to prevent her from attacking: it was clear Santana hadn't been there for an all-out attack. It was best she stop Rachel from making it become one. "Let me _go, _Mercedes!" Rachel demanded, still struggling against Mercedes' arms.

"I'll be seeing you _real _soon, slayers. _Real _soon," Santana promised, leisurely leaving the premises just like she had left the cemetery the night before.

Once she was out of sight, Rachel sagged against Mercedes, her head dropping down shamefully. "What the hell happened, Rach?" Mercedes asked, her eyes racing around the dark parking lot in search of any other foes. It appeared deserted.

Rachel slowly pulled away from Mercedes, and she could just make out Rachel's tears in the dark. "She just showed up," Rachel began. Mercedes gave her a moment while she collected herself, clearly agitated and embarrassed. Rachel blew out a breath and ran a hand through her hair. "I was just out here to…_collect _myself, and she showed up. Saying a bunch of stuff about…about…_her_," she whispered, her chin dropping to her chest.

Mercedes understood Rachel's desire to be alone. That's how she felt as well. She couldn't even imagine—if she let herself consider it—having your heart broken and then thrown in your face. She sympathized for the girl. She was also thankful for her. Mercedes wasn't alone in this, after all. She had Rachel. And Rachel had seen and gone up against things Mercedes hadn't. It gave her maturity and a depth Mercedes lacked.

"Come on, Rach," Mercedes breathed out. "We shouldn't be outside, and everyone is waiting for us." Rachel nodded, still not making eye contact, and followed after her.

Will's plan was simple. And it would have to take place right away.

Will and Mike would go to Rachel's motel room to cast the spell. It was hardly their best option, and Emma had fought hard to have them perform it at her apartment considering how well-protected it was. But Rachel had made a good point: Santana had met Emma, probably knew where she lived. Once this was over, they wanted to make sure their homes were safe havens, untouched by the Unholy Trinity. Emma was already making plans to move, scared that she would be a later target if any or all of the Trinity made it through the fight.

With Will and Mike at Rachel's, Emma, Tina, Sam, and Artie would stay at the school in the choir room. It would be safer at one of their houses, but with Blaine tied up in Will's office, they needed to make sure he stayed put. God forbid Blaine got loose in his werewolf form. There would be safety in numbers if all the kids stayed there: Emma and Tina could do magicks, Sam was a descent fighter, and Artie's aim with a crossbow was spot on. Best not scare the crap of anyone of the kid's parents or Will's neighbors with a werewolf stashed there.

Meanwhile, Mercedes and Rachel were tasked with patrolling. No one was truly comfortable with this plan. But Rachel had made a good point: if either slayer were to go to the motel room with Will and Mike, or stay at the school, it would put a bulls-eye on everyone else's backs. If both girls were out, it would draw the enemy away.

Mike didn't feel nearly as confident as he would like working the spell, but everyone had faith in him. It was with solemn nods that he and Will left the choir room. No one wanted to say goodbye. Will gave Emma a smile that he had hoped conveyed his feelings, and Tina mopped away her tears as Mike gave her a heartbreaking wave.

They left the school, weapons and crosses at the ready, and hurried to Will's car. They both breathed a little easier when they made it safely inside, and Will didn't even bother with traffic lights and street signs as he raced towards the Red Carpet Inn & Suites.

Back in the choir room, Emma's gaze was skyward as she tried to rein in her emotions. Not for the first time, she wished she had told Will how she felt. They had danced around one another for so long, she suddenly felt foolish for never making a move. But she couldn't think about that right now. She needed to be strong for the kids.

Already, Will and Mike's absences were greatly felt. Both Sam and Artie were quiet, stoically staring at the floor. Mercedes was silently sitting at the piano, turning a stake over in her hands with her brows furrowed. Rachel was pacing the room, her expression so cloaked that Emma was worried for the girl. And beside Emma, Tina was silently crying.

"Okay, everyone," Emma said as brightly as she could, running her hand up and down Tina's back in the hopes it would give the girl comfort, "we need to prepare. Mercedes, Rachel, are you two all set?"

Mercedes glanced up and watched Rachel pace momentarily before looking over at Emma. "Yeah, Ms. P," she whispered with a nervous nod. Her gaze caught Sam's, and, for a second, Mercedes almost gave up. The fear she saw in her boyfriend's eyes reflected her own. Suddenly, she couldn't remember why they were even fighting. Why she had to do any of this at all.

"Come on, Mercedes," Rachel murmured, unexpectedly right in front of the slayer, "we need to get going."

Mercedes nodded and got to her feet while Rachel gathered all their weapons. She felt silly, but she just wanted to be home, in between her parents, watching some stupid reality show. With all the effort she could gather, she pushed those feelings aside and rallied the biggest, cockiest, most confident smirk she could. "This is gonna be a cake walk." Emma, Sam, Artie, and even Tina, smiled back. They were small, tentative smiles, but they appreciated what Mercedes was trying to do.

Unlike what Emma and Tina had done with Will and Mike, respectfully, Sam couldn't just let Mercedes walk out the door without holding her one last time, just in case. He leapt from his chair and engulfed Mercedes with the biggest hug he could muster. Mercedes laughed around her tears and hugged her boyfriend back just as fiercely, mindful of her strength.

"You better come back to me," he mumbled against her neck.

Mercedes' eyes slipped closed, memorizing the feel of his arms around her. "I'll kick your ass if you let anything happen to you," she replied back.

As they pulled away, he smiled softly. "We'll be fine here. Just be safe. Don't be stupid out there." She gave him a nod and he kissed her. "Love you."

Her whispered reply was for his ears only, and soon, she and Rachel were walking down McKinley's hallway, hauling their weapons, game faces on. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Mercedes texted Sam to let him know they had made it to the car in one piece, and Sam relayed the message to everyone else.

"So we wait," Emma breathed out. Beside her, Tina was still crying. Artie looked lost. And Sam appeared as though he was about to be sick. The only sounds were from Blaine, a room over, snarling and slamming against the door. "We wait."

X

They sat back to back atop a cold tombstone, silent. In Rachel's right hand she held a sword, in her left, a stake. Mercedes' right hand wielded a cross bow as her eyes scanned the dark cemetery, her left hand fingering the cross she wore around her neck. They had been patrolling for an hour and, so far, nothing.

"Maybe we should walk around again?" Mercedes suggested quietly, eyes still scrutinizing.

"Okay," was Rachel's soft reply. In truth, neither girl knew what to do. To move around or stay put? Every so often, they'd send or receive a text from one of the kids updating them and checking in. The last update had come five minutes ago.

Mercedes never wanted to _stop _texting, she was so worried, but it was a distraction they couldn't afford. As far as she knew, everything was still on schedule. Mike had started the spell, Will had told her, and it wouldn't be long now.

As soon as Mike completed it, Will would text to tell them to hurry back to the school where they would all regroup. Mercedes was very much so looking forward to that text.

"What do you think will happen? After Mike finishes?" Mercedes asked. Neither girl, despite Mercedes' earlier idea, had moved an inch off the gravestone.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked after a beat.

"Do you think…do you think she'll find you? Come looking for you?"

Mercedes felt Rachel's shoulders rise and fall. "I don't know," she answered quietly.

After a moment, Mercedes asked the question she had been dying to know the answer to since she heard about Rachel and Quinn. "Do you want her to?"

Rachel exhaled loudly and slid off the grave. "I don't know," she whispered, her sword digging into the dirt.

"She's…kind of really evil, Rach."

"I _know_ that, Mercedes, don't you think I _know _that?!" Rachel replied, her tone angry.

Mercedes held up her hands. "I'm sorry, okay? I just…I would understand why you would _want _her to. But even if Mike pulls this off, we don't know what it means. Maybe it wears off. Maybe it's just a partial fix."

"Well maybe I just want to hear her explain herself, okay?! Maybe I just want to know that what we had wasn't a complete lie!" Rachel yelled, her emotions seemingly exploding all at once.

Nodding, Mercedes stood and fixed her gaze on Rachel. "I get that, Rach, I do," she said calmly. "But it's not going to change the fact that she's a vampire. Or that she killed your parents. This orb thingy is supposed to suck magick and power from something. I don't even know what that means, but she'll still be the bad guy, and you'll still be a slayer."

"And you'll still be incredibly boring to listen to," came from a voice a few yards behind Mercedes. Both girls whipped around to see Santana and Brittany casually walking towards them, hand in hand, wearing McKinley high school Cheerio uniforms.

It seemed that both Rachel and Mercedes were too struck to move in that moment. Santana was smirking again. The expression almost begged to be smacked off her face. Like she wanted them to attack.

"I didn't even know there _could _be fat slayers," Brittany whispered to Santana, getting the vampire to throw back her head and laugh.

"I wondered that too, Brit!" Santana declared.

In any other situation, Mercedes may have had some retort. Maybe even a violent one. But she was too scared to move. All she could do was turn her gaze to Rachel. What she found on the other girl's face, however, worried her more than the two vampires' sudden appearance.

It was almost unexplainable, the look in Rachel's eyes. Mercedes may have called it fear, but that didn't seem right. She was staring at Brittany as though she was remembering. The unspoken recollection was bottomless with pain. Mercedes remembered the story Rachel had told. Finding Quinn feeding off of a little girl with Brittany at her side. She shivered for Rachel. And all the memories that were now rushing to the surface.

"Hi!" Brittany said brightly, waving at Rachel and Mercedes, her smile threatening to rocket off of her face, she seemed so happy. Mercedes' eyebrow popped up in confusion: a friendly vampire? The blonde hair and bubbly personality felt all wrong. Even if the vampire's face _did _appear slightly angelic. Brittany turned her body more towards Mercedes and smiled, still bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I was totally a slayer too. But, like, the _only _one…so that makes me way cooler."

"Absolutely, Brit Brit," Santana cooed, placing a sweet kiss on Brittany's lips. Mercedes recoiled: it was incredibly disconcerting to watch two vampires be engaging with one another. The pair seemed so in love. Mercedes had never witnessed such a thing.

"It's like," Brittany began, twirling the tip of her ponytail around a finger, "when parents make their kids invite everyone in their class to their birthday party. But the kid should be allowed to only invite the kids they want: special kids. Not the losers."

"Exactly," Santana eagerly agreed.

"Not just everyone should be a slayer," Brittany continued thoughtfully. She then gave a shrug before she went back to bouncing happily on her feet. "Can we tell them now, San, can we tell them?"

Santana laughed, her eyes shining brightly at her lover. "If you want, B."

"This is so totally—"

Rachel cut Brittany off, lunging at Santana with a raised fist, bringing it down with a loud crack across Santana's face. Mercedes acted instantly, flinging herself at Brittany as she screamed. Rachel and Santana went head to head, exchanging strikes and kicks so fast it was hard to tell who was winning.

It was clear, however, who had the upper hand in the fight against Mercedes and Brittany. The vampire looked almost uninterested as she fought, batting away the slayer's swings with ease and agility. Twice, Brittany simply moved aside to avoid Mercedes, until it became a game to the vampire—leaping through the air to do elaborate flips and turns just for the fun of it.

"_Enough_!" Santana finally screamed, sitting on top of Rachel, the girl's hands pinned down over her head, finally gaining the advantage.

With a smile and a tilt of her head, Brittany grabbed Mercedes' neck and held her up. Mercedes' arms and legs uselessly kicked at the air.

"I bet this just kills you," Santana said, looking down at Rachel. "Me, being on top. I bet it just _kills _you." Rachel sneered, her eyes black as she stared up at Santana. "Go ahead, Brits, tell them," Santana grunted.

Brittany looked up at Mercedes and gave her another smile. "Your boyfriend sure likes you a bunch," she began. "He, like, made it _really _clear that if we did anything to you that he'd do a bunch of bad stuff to us. Which is, just, so funny. Because he's _incredibly _breakable." Mercedes felt her insides ice over as her gaze turned horrified. Brittany didn't seem to notice, too caught up in her own thoughts. She shrugged carelessly, and looked up at Mercedes to see the understanding in the slayer's eyes. "Oh yeah, we totally already have your friends."

Santana laughed, and held firmer against Rachel's struggling. "Keep going, B, we didn't even get to the best parts yet!"

Brittany smiled at her lover. "Okay, so, like, about an hour ago…"

_The Red Carpet Inn & Suites, Room 212  
Like, About an Hour Ago_

Will and Mike had made it to Rachel's room in record time. They quickly ran into the building and up the two flights of stairs until they were outside Rachel's door. Once inside with the bolt slammed home, they both collapsed against the wall, panting, feeling as though they had sprinted the whole way instead of driving.

"Let's set up," Will gasped, pointing over to the table in the living area. Mike nodded and brought the orb and the ingredients they would need for the spell in his backpack, and scattered them across the table's surface. "It will take about a half hour to set up, then maybe another half hour to complete. You ready?"

Mike's heart pounded as he looked up to meet Will's gaze. "As I'll ever be."

_McKinley High School, Choir Room  
Like, About an Hour Ago_

Blaine's werewolf was thudding harder and harder against the office door as each minute ticked on. Almost as though the beast knew that something wasn't right; that it was unsafe.

The kids and Emma sat huddled together on the stands, not speaking. They watched the clock and clutched their cell phones. Unsure of what else to do. Emma had halfheartedly suggested homework, but she received blank gazes from all three kids.

Tina hadn't really stopped crying. Sam held his stake in one hand, making his knuckles white, while the other was in a constant fist. Artie could only stare at the ground, his crossbow lying on his desk. Emma's mind raced with spells that could, perhaps, come in handy if they had to race to Will and Mike's rescue, or the slayers'. When she wasn't considering what she coulddo, she was wondering what she _should _have done. There were all sorts of weapons at a witch's disposal in the Magic Box. Any one of them could have aided her in fighting Santana off that fateful day. Instead, she had cowered. Had she taught Mike enough? Would he be able to do it? Sure, he was further along in his studies than Tina, but would it be adequate? Only time would tell.

_The Red Carpet Inn & Suites, Room 212  
Like, A Little Less Than an Hour Ago _

They hadn't even finished setting up yet when the knock came. A long, drawn out _tap tap tap_ that made both Will and Mike freeze.

"Ignore it," Will said, looking from Mike to the door. Mike nodded, and they went back to setting up the supplies, crushing and splintering each ingredient exactly how the spell instructed. When the tapping became a louder _thud thud thud, _Will felt the first drop of perspiration bead down his cheek. "I'll see who it is."

Again, Mike nodded and went back to work. It was too important to even pause, and whoever it was, his teacher would get rid of them quickly.

Will approached the peephole carefully, his back against the wall, and leaned over so as not to cast any shadows underneath the door. His gasp made Mike drop his knife, and when he looked up, Will's eyes were wide and his face chalk-white. "It's Santana," he breathed out, his body starting to shake.

Without instruction, Mike quickly went back to work, not as careful in his preparations as he'd been before. Will, careful not to make too much noise, hurried back to the table, and they doubled their efforts.

"It's okay," Will whispered, his voice cracking somewhat, "she can't come in without an invitation."

"We can hear you, a-hole," came from just outside the apartment. Mike and Will's eyes darted up to meet one another.

"Keep going," Will instructed, moving away from the table for the weapons chest they had brought. He extracted a crossbow and a few stakes.

"What are you doing, Mr. Schue?" Mike asked, fully panicking.

Will nodded. "It's okay. Just in case, I'd feel safer. They can't come in and we're not going _out_ until that spell's done."

"Hey, _dickheads_," Santana replied with exasperation; both men could hear soft laughter from just outside in the hallway, "riddle me this: what happens when the owner of a motel is suddenly made dead. Can a vampire enter someone's room?"

Will and Mike exchanged fearful glances before Mike hurried over to Will for weapons of his own.

"Give up?" Santana asked.

"I think they're trying to figure out your riddle, San," Brittany supplied.

"Well, time's up!" Suddenly, the door was kicked off its hinges, and in poured Santana and Brittany with a smirking Quinn pulling up the rear. "Sorry, I spoiled the answer," Santana said with a shrug and a fake grimace.

Will let the release go on his crossbow. It whizzed in the air towards Santana, but the vampire caught it within inches of her chest. Beside her, Brittany pouted. "Well, that was rude," Brittany said, her eyebrows furrowed. "We knocked, after all."

While Will reloaded his crossbow, backing up slightly in retreat, Mike let his fly. Brittany batted it out of the air while Quinn stood, her back against the wall with her arms crossed and one ankle over the other, looking amused.

Finally, Will had another arrow in his bow, but before he could even get a shot off, Brittany was lunging through the air, her face morphing into one of rage as her teeth slid over her lips. They both went down, and Mike instantly picked up the nearest weapon to defend himself as Santana sauntered over.

"Why don't we skip all of this and you just give up?" Santana asked innocently, cocking her head as she sized him up.

"Never! I won't do the spell for you!" he yelled, ready to fight.

Quinn chuckled in the background, inspecting her nails as Brittany lifted Will off the ground and pinned him to the wall by his throat.

"Don't do it, Mike! Don't go with them!" Will choked out around Brittany's tightening grip.

"Silly, rabbit," Santana hissed in pleasure, feet from Mike. "We don't want _you_, just the supplies."

"No, keep him," Quinn said drolly. "He'll make excellent collateral."

Santana clapped her hands, looking excited. "_Yay_! You get to live!" Suddenly, her face changed until she looked pure vampire. "For the moment." Mike never saw the kick coming. Santana caught the side of his head with her leather boots, and he went down, already unconscious before he even landed.

A loud crack pierced the silence, and both Santana and Quinn looked over at Brittany. "Sorry," Brittany apologized with a frown, "my hand slipped." She let go of Will's body, and the man slid down the wall, his neck broken, dead.

"No matter," Quinn shrugged, "we have the kid. Get the supplies and let's get out of here."

Brittany giggled and danced over to Santana where they quickly kissed. "You get the boy and I'll get the supplies for grandmommy," Brittany smiled.

"Whatever you want, B," Santana replied before leaning down to throw Mike over her shoulder. "Let's go to school."

Santana headed for the door, carrying Mike over her shoulder, with Brittany skipping behind her. Quinn pushed off the wall with a frown. "Can you _not _call me that, B," Quinn asked wearily.

Brittany smiled and cupped Quinn's face, pulling her in for a long kiss. "Never," she winked, and followed after Santana.

"I'm only 548!" Quinn declared, throwing up her hands before exiting the apartment.

_McKinley High School Choir Room  
Like, A Half Hour Ago_

The wait was getting unbearable. Sam had taken to pacing the room. Artie watched him with a somber expression, wishing he could do more; even _just_ pace. The noise coming from Will's office was suddenly deafening. None of them had ever heard Blaine's werewolf so violent.

Neither Emma nor Tina could stop checking their cell phones. Every time they got an update, they'd share with the boys, but they never got a reply—they were too busy being emotionless.

Mercedes' texts weren't frequent. They knew their slayer needed to stay sharp, so they didn't push. Tina seemed somewhat happy with Mike's limited responses, but Emma was fearful of the responses she had been receiving. Will's texts seemed cold. Distant. She understood he was busy, but usually the man was bursting with optimism. His texts read as though he was in the middle of a business deal and not a way to save their lives. Emma broke out in chills.

Artie had just counted Sam's sixty-second lap when they heard it. Everyone froze as they listened to light laughter and what sounded like lockers being slammed.

"Everyone grab a weapon," Sam ordered, immediately getting in front of the stands, stake ready. Artie lifted his crossbow and aimed, while Tina's tears fell harder as she armed herself. Emma's wide eyes flashed on each one of the kids. Not a single spell occurred to her in that moment. It hadn't even occurred to her to prepare for an attack at the school.

With a loud yawn, the choir room door opened, but the door frame was empty. Fleetingly, everyone hoped it had been the wind, as silly as the thought was. But when a head of blonde hair filled the space, accompanied by a huge smile, they all knew hope was lost.

"_Boo_!" Brittany said with a grin before jumping out behind the hallway wall to present her body. The kids were startled. The girl was wearing a McKinley Cheerios' uniform and looked so excited to see them. They vaguely hoped she was merely a student that was staying exceptionally late. Only Emma knew who she was.

"Kids," Emma said gravely, "get behind me." She was already standing, not sure when or how she had gotten to her shaky feet, and nudged Sam towards the risers. Blaine's slamming became even more pronounced. The office door shook and rattled with such force that it seemed to emulate each heart that beat in the room.

"Hi!" Brittany greeted. She glanced down at the uniform she wore and ran her hands down its length. "Like? I just found it! I made San and Q put one on too!"

Hearing their names was the final nail on the coffin. Tina's tears doubled and were no longer silent. Both Artie and Sam traded glances as the dread doused them. The juxtaposition of the laughter coming from the hallway made all of them feel sick. They were going to die, they all knew it.

Emma couldn't understand why they were there. She stood, shaking, staring at the vision of Brittany, suddenly remembering everything she had ever read about the once slayer, the exact drawings depicting her beauty, the horror that she had caused. The horror she _would _cause. Why were they at the school?!

"Here they are!" Brittany cheered, glancing to her left with a huge smile. Suddenly, Quinn and Santana were at Brittany's sides, smirking in their uniforms and looking very pleased with themselves. Quinn moved first, with Santana and Brittany flanking her, until they were front and center staring at their attentive audience.

"Now," Quinn smiled, all teeth, her gaze caressing over each one of them languidly, "which one of you is _Tina_?" she purred arrogantly. Without thinking, everyone moved to stand in front of Tina like a guard. It only got the Unholy Trinity's smiles to broaden. "And if I hadn't known before..."

"What in _god's _name is that pounding?" Santana asked, looking annoyed, moving towards Will's office door.

Quinn watched each of the faces before her. Their eyes bulged, looking frightened. She inhaled deeply and watched Santana and Brittany do the same. "Maybe we shouldn't open that, San," Brittany said, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

Cocking her head slightly, Quinn inhaled again, even deeper than before. Suddenly, her face morphed, getting Emma and Tina to gasp. "Open the door, San," Quinn instructed, her tone brokering no room for disobedience.

Santana shrugged. "You're the boss."

"You shouldn't do that," Artie whispered in fear.

Santana only winked at him. "We got this, Sit and Spin," she said, turning the knob.

Quinn hissed to Brittany to move out of the way. When the door opened, the only thing Blaine's werewolf saw was Quinn. The onlookers were unsure who growled louder. But it was safe to say Quinn looked scarier. She hunched down, ready to attack, and waited until Blaine started dashing towards her on all fours before she even moved an inch. He leapt through the air, his dark muzzle wet, and snarled with his teeth bared.

Quinn snatched his hairy body out of the air around the waist, and brought him down to the floor with a sickening crunch. The werewolf's high-pitched whimper made each human wince, and Emma was already muttering a spell in an attempt to stop the vampire.

Brittany narrowed her eyes at Emma, watching her lips move silently, and picked up the stapler on the piano, chucking it at the woman's head. Once the object hit its mark, Emma slumped over a desk, unconscious.

"Ms. P!" Sam yelled, lunging forward to check on her.

"Nice shot, B," Santana smiled. Brittany only shrugged, and turned her attention back to the main event: Quinn and the werewolf.

Although concerned about their teacher and mentor, Artie, Sam, and Tina knew that they had to do something. With all three of the vampires distracted by Blaine, they tried to share a conversation as quietly as possible.

"We have to get out of here and get to the motel," Sam whispered, his eyes scanning the room for a way out. There was no way they could outrun the vampires. Brittany was in front by the piano and Quinn and Blaine were circling each other by the office. The only way out would be through the back windows, and Artie and Emma wouldn't be able to get out. But if the Unholy Trinity wanted Tina, hopefully if the pair made a run for it, the vampires would follow them, keeping Artie and Emma safe.

"Hey, lady lips," Santana whispered, just by Sam's ear. Both he and Tina jumped, never even seeing the vampire approach. "I bet right about now you're wondering if it's worth it to hop out of those windows behind you," she said, leaning across a desk to get closer to the two kids. A riser below, Artie gulped. "You are _more _than welcomed to try," she smirked. "But what would happen to your boyfriend?" Santana asked, looking right at Tina. "And it will be _really _hard to climb out the window with a broken arm," she told Sam.

Both Tina and Sam traded confused looks before Santana reached out, grabbed Sam's arm, and snapped it in one fell swoop. Tina and Artie could only watch on, horrified, as Sam screamed out in pain. Tears immediately flooded his eyes as he held his limp arm, his face already turning ashen.

Just then, the sound of dozens of bones breaking at once engulfed the room. Every head turned towards the front, where Quinn was holding a dead werewolf in her arms. She dropped the body, and once on the floor, slowly, the werewolf became human, until Blaine's lifeless corpse lay naked.

"Took you long enough," Santana said, straightening and walking down the risers until she stood over Blaine. "Thought you lost your touch, Q."

Quinn looked up at Santana and smirked. "Never, S, just wanted to make him suffer a bit."

Brittany walked over and threw her arms around the pair. "What did he do?" she asked, snuggling closer to Santana.

Quinn sniffed the air as she scowled. "He smells like her." With that, she whipped around to face the kids and smiled. "I'm sorry about that," Quinn said, almost conversationally with a sickeningly sweet smile. "We have the boy. The watcher is dead. Why don't you just give up now so we don't have to do anything else ugly?"

All three kids were crying. Will was dead. Blaine was dead. They had Mike. Sam's arm was broken. Emma was knocked out cold. They had no idea where Mercedes or Rachel were. All they could do was agree and hope it meant they got to live.

"What do you want with us?" Tina asked in between sobs.

Slowly, Quinn approached the risers as her eyes bore into Tina's. "You're going to do a little spell. Now let's go." Without waiting for an answer, Quinn spun around, the pleats of her Cheerio's skirt rippling, and sashayed out of the room. The kids looked up at Santana and Brittany. Both vampires were smiling at one another.

"God, I missed her," Santana mumbled before stepping over Blaine's body. "Come on Trouty, Other Asian," she beckoned.

Slowly, both Sam and Tina stepped down, shaking and crying with each step. Sam did his best to guide Tina despite his arm. "Don't look at him, Tina," he mumbled, turning his bleary gaze away from Blaine as well.

Brittany bounced forward and smiled down at Artie. "I guess you're with me."

"Please don't kill me," he pleaded through tears.

Brittany frowned. "I don't know what we're going to do with you."

"I'll do anything! Just don't kill me."

"Can I push your wheelchair?" she asked excitedly. Artie's shoulders shook as he nodded, tears streaming now. "_Yay_!" Brittany cheered, moving behind him as she pushed enthusiastically. "This has been, like, the best week _ever_!"

_Gethsemani Cemetery  
Present Time_

"So you see," Santana sneered, still holding Rachel down as she looked up at Mercedes, "there's nothing you can do. Fight, they die. We don't need you. The witch will do the spell or else everyone dies. We win. So either you come with us, or you die here."

"I'm sure there's a fresh grave somewhere we can toss you in," Brittany said helpfully.

"Why do you need us?" Rachel gritted out, finally finding her voice. Mercedes had wanted to ask that question as well, she just didn't want the vampires to realize they actually _didn't _need her and Rachel.

Santana and Brittany's twin smirks were chilling. "What would be the fun in just killing a couple of slayers? We want to keep you around for a little. A few days of good old-fashion torture."

"And your _boss_ is okay with that?" Mercedes asked through pants of air.

Santana gave a bark of a laugh. "Oh, it was Q's idea."

"I see she has you two idiots doing all the dirty work," Rachel mocked.

Brittany just shrugged. "Q will be here in a minute. She was just finishing tying your friends up and stuff. She wouldn't miss this."

"No," Quinn said, emerging from behind a mausoleum, still in her Cheerios' uniform, "she wouldn't."

Mercedes and Rachel froze.

"Everything secure?" Santana asked.

Quinn nodded with a smile. "Of course it is. Who do you think you're—"

Rachel's enraged scream cut Quinn off and echoed around the cemetery as she kicked wildly at Santana, getting the vampire to release her, and rolled, using the momentum to leap to her feet. She was on Quinn, punching wildly, before the vampire could even raise her arms to defend herself.

Mercedes had never seen anything like it; and she _really _wished Rachel would have given her the heads up before suddenly attacking. She had never _heard _anything like the screams Rachel was emitting. That was because Rachel had never felt rage like she was currently feeling. Once she had seen Quinn, something broke inside her. She no longer cared about anything else. She could only rain punch after punch down on the vampire, letting each hit act as her therapy.

Out of shock, Brittany released her grip on Mercedes and stared at Rachel and Quinn. Santana slowly got to her feet, mouth wide, as Quinn took the beating. Rachel had her on the ground, moving to sit astride her to further gain the upper hand. Mercedes saw her chance and dived for the weapons.

"_Ah ah ahhh,_" Brittany mumbled, barely taking her gaze off Rachel and Quinn. She grabbed Mercedes by the scruff of her neck and held her in place. Santana slowly moved to Mercedes' other side to keep her hostage, and the three watched the muscles in Rachel's back strain and ripple.

Rachel's screams and curses were unintelligible. She was fueled by only her own hurt and rage, angry tears pouring down her face.

Mercedes tried as best she could to fight off the two vampires, but they held on tightly as they watched Rachel. Finally, when Rachel pulled a stake out from underneath her pant leg, Santana and Brittany let go of Mercedes to bound forward.

"Let me _fucking _go!" Rachel roared as Santana and Brittany dragged her off Quinn. Quinn's pale face was beaten and bloody as she laid there. Mercedes sensed the vampire was moments away from passing out and saw another opportunity.

She dove for her crossbow and sword, and rolled over behind a grave marker as she took aim.

"San!" Brittany gasped seeing the attack in a vision, not a moment too soon, and turned around just in time to catch Mercedes' arrow before it punctured Santana's chest. With Brittany distracted, Rachel swung her legs around to knock Santana off her feet and lunged at Quinn.

"Jesus _fuck_," Santana cursed, pissed that her attention had to be divided. She took a quick glance over at Rachel and Quinn and saw that Rachel was back to wailing on Quinn, stake lying forgotten. With a deep breath, Santana ran towards where Brittany was batting arrows away, and pushed her lover down to the ground to protect her.

"Give up?" Mercedes yelled as she reloaded her crossbow from behind her cover.

"Are you kidding?" Santana asked back with a laugh.

"Rachel!" Mercedes screamed, but got no answer. She didn't know what to do. Rachel seemed completely out of it and unwilling to help. But the Unholy Trinity had her friends somewhere. It sounded like most of them were alive. _Sam _was alive. She needed to rescue them. But the vampires could have them stashed anywhere. Mercedes would need to have one of the vamps as a hostage, too, if she ever wanted to get her friends back. Alive. "Rachel! Grab her and let's _go_!"

"You're not going anywhere," Santana growled. She could tell Mercedes was trying to reload. She crept around a few gravestones before she spotted the slayer. As she jumped through the air, Mercedes saw her and took off down a different row of tombstones. She could just make out Rachel still letting loose on Quinn.

"Gotcha," Brittany cheered, kicking the crossbow away before taking Mercedes down to the dirt.

"Great job, B," Santana smiled, hovering over the pair.

"It's still two against two, though," Mercedes panted, sneering up at Santana. "My girl looks like she's about to take out your Chief any second, isn't that right, Rachel?" Mercedes yelled.

"_Rachel_?" came the breathy whimper. All eyes snapped towards Quinn, and Rachel finally stopped hitting the vampire.

Mercedes couldn't fully see from her angle on the ground and could only make out the back of Rachel's head, but she knew it had been Quinn who had spoken.

"Rachel!" Mercedes tried again, hoping she could startle her friend into action.

The growl that came next shocked Mercedes. Rachel whipped her head around to finally look at Mercedes.

"Oh my God!" M ercedes gasped, staring at Rachel's face, taking in the fangs sliding over her full lips and the bumpiness of her forehead.

"'Two against two?' You sure about those odds, slayer?" Santana smirked.

Brittany clapped happily, pleased to see Rachel's vampire face. "Mommy's home!"


End file.
